In his dream he saw as if with his eyes, so vivid was the presentment, a wood devastated by storm; at its foot—for the trees covered a long declivity—a curving strand and a raging sea in which living things struggled to reach the shore. Night changed suddenly to day: as suddenly the scene changed from falling trees and breaking waves to wind-swept foothills, up which, nose to ground, a brindled lurcher ran with incredible swiftness—and the foothills were the foothills below him, the lurcher was the farm dog from Boscawen-Un; the trail it followed was his own trail. His wide-open eyes beheld every twist and turn of the dog’s advance without suggesting danger, till the enemy was almost within springing distance; then consciousness returned, and at a bound the affrighted creature cleared the bush and fled up the hill. He soon outdistanced his pursuer, fleet-footed though she was, reached the crest, swerved and ran with the gale at his back till within sight of Caer Bran. After coming so far he wished to satisfy himself that the dog still pursued. The wind lashed his face and beat down his ears; it threatened to blow him off the wall he stood on; but he held his ground and looked along his trail. So had he often stood when followed by foxes, but never once did he get a glimpse of them: one and all recognised the uselessness of trying to overtake him, and relinquished the chase. He was now to learn that a dog will persist though success seems hopeless, for soon he saw the lurcher coming on at a pace that filled him with consternation. At once he became concerned for his safety, but not an instant was he at a loss where to go. A naked lane ran down the long slope to Boswarthen Farm, and the hare struck into it in the hope that the gravelly track, holding little or no scent, would render further pursuit difficult if not impossible. The lane, which winds considerably, ends at a gate; under this he passed to the fields, skirted the homestead, and finally reached Johanna’s Garden, where, after confusing the trail, he lay down in a furrow between two ridges of the upturned ground. He had hopes of having defeated or disheartened his pursuer, yet it was in a fever of anxiety that he watched the gate under which he himself had crept.