THE MAN IN SADDLE
it. Surely that edged instinct that has never been surrounded will feel the unseen barrier creeping upon him, drawing in from each side! The shadows of the pines on the moonlighted space were an embroidery of gray that moved before Carron's disordered sight, the moon was like a white flower in the clouds, a vague blossom of light, when the thing happened.
The sound of a ridden horse crashing in the forest came behind the rhythmic approaching trot, and instantly a double rushing of hoofs. Hark! which way is the driven one running? Is he coming, or has he turned to charge his pursuer? The man's excited ears, sounding with their own pulses, could not distinguish. He heard the night broken by alarms and echoes. He scrambled from his hiding, and remained half fallen upon the rocks, gaping like a terrified boy seeing a visible thunderbolt. It seemed to be going clean over the barrier over the stream. Then the recoil too quick for the eye, the turn. The moonlighted space was empty; but there was a sound of a passing like a storm among the trees. Away for ever—away to the other side of the world—away from the man who thought to corral the wind. Hola! There it came again, the swing about. What had happened? Carron's bewildered senses recognized the flight of terror. Now
339
