He has stopped and is sniffing the breeze; now he is off again; but I have got nearer. He has jumped into the bushes on the left, towards the cliff--so do I. I am only ten yards off, now. He dashes through the brambles without heeding their thorns. I follow in his wake. The branches are lashing at him, and the thorns are hurting him. He is moaning. Well, why does not he thrust them aside? He could easily avoid their clutches. The cliffs are not far away. Now we are making straight for them. On my honor! My quarry seems to know perfectly well where it is going. I see his back now and again. I must track him by the crackling of the branches. At last I see his narrow head again, against the rocky path. Silently I glide up. Another second, and I shall be upon him, but an unexpected action of his makes me pause at the edge of the clear space which encircles me, and of which the cliff forms one side. He is on his knees, scratching furiously at the soil. The task tortures his nails, so that he whines as he did a moment ago amongst the thorns of the hawthorn and the bramble. The earth flies from behind him up to me; his rigid hands working with force and rapid motion. He digs away, groaning with pain, then, ever and anon, plunges his nose into the hole as deeply as he can, snorts, shaking his head, and resumes his task. The scar is now fully visible to me, it is like a livid crown. Oh! I do not mind his madness. Now’s the time. Jump on him, and carry him off! I come out of the thicket stealthily. Hallo! somebody has already been digging here! A heap of earth, which has become gray, shows that my yellow-haired gentleman is only resuming some old bit of work. Well! Well! I bend my legs and get ready to jump. The man then utters a grunt of pleasure, and what do I see in the hole he has made--_an old shoe that he has just unearthed!_ Ah! poor humanity! I jumped. I have got him, the rascal. Good Lord! he turns round and thrusts me away, but I shall not leave go. It is queer how awkward he is with his hands. Ah! would you bite, you devil! I grasp him hard enough to break his bones. He has never done any wrestling, that is clear, but I have not got the better of him yet. Ah! I have made a wrong step! it is the hole.... I am walking on the old boot. Horror! There is something in it--something which is fastening it to the ground. I am beginning to pant. “Nothing fits a _foot_ like a shoe.” I must have done with this. The moments are golden. Each clasping the other, my adversary and I are face to face, in front of the rock, gasping--equally matched.... Ah! an idea. I opened my eyes terribly wide, as if it were a matter of subduing a child, or a beast. I put on the dominating look of a master, whereupon, the other let go of his hold, quite tamed, and repentant--and if he is not licking my hands in token of obedience! Ah, well! Come along.