the creature’s body—a moment before, all strained and tense as iron bands—gradually collapsed—the fierce eyes turned, so that the yellowish whites shone, with a grim glare into mine, and it required but a slight effort to shake off the quivering and bleeding creature, which as I rose trembling and panting from the fray—fell heavily from my limbs, and lay gasping in its blood among the grass. Truly, it was a noble dog, as large and more powerful than the mightiest stag-hound, but its deep chest had uttered its last bay, its giant limbs had run their last race. The life passed out of the quivering flesh, as I stood and gazed at it. Then flinging over my shoulders my doublet, all torn, and stained with blood and froth, I addressed myself again to flight—thankful and joyous for my deliverance. ‘Three good thrusts of this trusty steel,’ said I to myself, sheathing my knife, ‘and the utmost spite of the Spaniard has been baffled.’ I was reckoning without my host. Hardly had the words escaped my lips, when, again, the accursed bay of a blood-hound came floating in the wind. I paused and listened with clenched teeth. For an instant, I hoped that it might be but the dying growl of the animal killed. But, no, he lay stark, and the foam was already cooling upon his jaw. Again and again, came the ominous sound—I could not be mistaken. My pursuers had started with at least a brace of dogs—and they were still following fast and hot upon my footsteps. A shuddering chill passed all over me, and I felt sick at heart—then I roused myself. ‘Perhaps,’ I argued, ‘the blood of the dead hound will confuse the scent of the living one. I have heard of such things.’ But afterwards I learned that the Spaniards, seeing the body from a distance, had not allowed their four-footed guide to approach it closely, but that leading him in a circle round the carcase, the animal had again struck upon my scent—closer and fresher than ever. Thus it was, that as I forced my way through the thickets of bushes, and long rustling grass—I ever heard behind me the hollow boom of that accursed creature, as he gave loud tongue, and the distant hallooing as the Spaniards answered him with shouts and execrations. Summoning my resources, I tried, as I ran, to call to mind the legends of men chased with blood hounds—of which I had heard in my childhood, and the means whereby they had baffled their pursuers. For many such tales are told on winter nights by Scottish hearths—of the bold moss-troopers of Teviot and Annan, and the wild northern caterans beyond the Highland line. But my memory seemed to have forsaken me. I could remember none of the devices which I had so often admired—although it is possible that were I keeping a calm mid-watch at sea, heaps of such stories would have flocked unsummoned into my brain. So I did naught save press instinctively forward—having little idea of the direction I was pursuing, and indeed seeking only for the open glades and avenues of the forest,