And then Sir John found himself running also, but still grasping Sir Hector’s arm and keeping always in the gloom of hedges; on and on till he was breathless; past gloomy trees, across dykes and ditches, stumbling and slipping yet still maintaining fast hold of his companion’s arm; on through a dim-seen gate and so along a dusty road until Sir Hector halted all at once. “Hark, John!” he panted. “Hark to yon!” In their front was sudden clamour swelling to exultant shouts and cheers, whereupon Sir Hector cursed bitterly and hurried on again with tireless stride. “What is it?” gasped Sir John. “They’ve captured some o’ the lads!” panted Sir Hector. “An’ now ’tis tae the rescue or be taken wi’ ’em ... loose me, John!” “No, by heaven!” “Johnnie man—loose me! My place is beside the poor lads yonder.” “And I say ’tis here——” “By God, John—must I knock ye down?” Sir Hector’s threatening fist was seized and held for a moment in the Corporal’s powerful grasp, while they reeled to and fro, all three locked in desperate grapple. Then Sir Hector, exerting his giant strength, hurled the Corporal into the ditch, swung Sir John violently aloft, and as suddenly set him back upon his feet, for from the gloom before them rose a sound very awful to hear, the shrill screaming of a man in the direst extremity of agony or fear. “Guid save ’s a’—what’s yon?” gasped Sir Hector, as the dreadful sound shuddered to silence. “O man, what awfu’ thing is chancin’?” A sudden shot, followed by three or four in rapid succession; a confusion of shrieks and hoarse outcries, a wild, rapidly growing hubbub. “They’re running, sir!” quoth the Corporal. “They’re comin’ back!” cried Sir Hector. “D’ye no’ hear ’em, Johnnie—d’ye no’ hear ’em?” “Aye, Hector. And, by heaven, they run like madmen! Quick ... behind this tree! Robert, are ye there?” “On your honour’s left flank!” Crouched in the shadow, they waited; beheld dimly a wild rabble of fleeing men who sobbed and groaned and cast away weapons and equipment to aid their flight. For there, flitting in pursuit, was a monstrous and gruesome thing outlined in pallid flame, a gigantic horror that lifted high in air two huge, widespreading horns tipped with green fire. On it came, swiftly, silently, a ghastly shape of fear, at sight of which Sir Hector groaned aloud and strove to hide his gigantic person behind the tree, while Robert, recoiling upon his master, drew forth a pistol with shaking hand. “Don’t shoot!” cried Sir John in fierce command; even as he spoke the fearful thing flitted past and all suddenly was gone. “Save us a’!” gasped Sir Hector. “Yon was a kelpie!” And, sitting down at foot of the tree, he took off his hat and wig to mop sweating brow, while the Corporal stood rigid, glaring, hand tight clenched upon the pistol he held. “Your honour observed its horns?” he questioned at last hoarsely. “I did, Robert!” “Tipped wi’ fire, sir, an’ a yard wide, just as I told your honour.”