  The tawny scudding streak that led that long chase had shot into the yard, turning for a last desperate double. It saw the man in the foreground and its bounding, agonized little wild heart that so prayed for life, gave way. With a final effort, it gained the porch and crouched down in its corner, an abject, sweated, hunted morsel, at hopeless bay. Like a flash, Valiant stooped, caught the shivering thing by the scruff, and as its snapping jaws grazed his thumb, dropped it through the open window behind him. “Sanctuary!” quoth he, and banged the shutter to. At the same instant, as the place overflowed with a pandemonium of nosing leaping hounds, he saw the golden-chestnut reined sharply down among the ragged box-rows, with a shamefaced though brazen knowledge that the girl who rode it had seen. She sat moveless, her head held high, one hand on the hunter’s foam-flecked neck, and their glances met like crossed swords. The look stirred something vague and deep within him. For an unforgettable The elder of the two men pulled up beside the leader, his astonished eyes sweeping the house-front, with its open blinds, the wisp of smoke curling from the kitchen chimney. He said something to her, and she nodded. The younger man, meanwhile, had flung himself from his horse, a wild-eyed roan, and with his arm thrust through its bridle, strode forward among the welter of hounds, where they scurried at fault, hither and thither, yelping and eager. “What rotten luck!” he exclaimed. “Gone to ground after twelve miles! After him, Tawny! You mongrels! Do you imagine he’s up a tree? After him, Bulger! Bring him here!” He glanced up, and for the first time saw the figure in tweeds looking on. Valiant was attracted by his face, its dash and generosity overlying its inherent profligacy and weakness. Dark as the girl was light, his features had the same delicate chiseling, “Oh!” he said. His view slowly took in the evidences of occupation. “The house is open, I see. Going to get it fit for occupancy, I presume?” “Yes.” The other turned. “Well, Judge Chalmers, what do you think of that? The unexpected has happened at last.” He looked again at the porch. “Who’s to occupy it?” “The owner.” “Wonders will never cease!” said the young man easily, shrugging. “Well, our quarry is here somewhere. From the way the dogs act I should say he’s bolted into the house. With your permission I’ll take one of them in and see.” He stooped and snapped a leash on a dog-collar. “I’m really very sorry,” said Valiant, “but I’m living in it at present.” The edge of a smile lifted the carefully trained mustache over the other’s white teeth. It had the perfectly courteous air of saying, “Of course, if you say so. But—” Valiant turned, with a gesture that included all. “If you care to dismount and rest,” he said, “I shall be honored, though I’m afraid I can’t offer you such hospitality as I should wish.” The judge raised his broad soft hat. “Thank you, sir,” he said, with a soft accent that delightfully disdained the letter “r.” “But we mustn’t intrude any further. As you know, of course, the place has been uninhabited for any number of years, and we had no idea it was to acquire a tenant. You will overlook our riding through, I hope. I’m afraid the neighborhood has got used to considering this a sort of no-man’s land. It’s a pleasure to know that the Court is to be reclaimed, sir. Come along, Chilly,” he added. “Our fox has a burrow under the house, I reckon—hang the cunning little devil!” He whistled sharply to the dogs, who came leaping about his horse’s legs for their meed of praise—and clubbing. “Down, Fan! Down Trojan! Come on, you young folks, to breakfast. We’ve had a prime run of it, anyhow, and we’ll put him up another day.” He waved his hat at the porch and turned his horse down the path, side by side with the golden-chestnut. After them trooped the others, horses walking wearily, riders talking in low voices, the girls turning often to send swift bird-like glances behind them to where the straight masculine figure still stood with the yellow sunshine on his face. They did not leap the wall this time, but filed decorously through the swinging gate to the Red Road. Then, as they passed from view behind the After a time he saw the straggling bunch of riders emerge at a slow canter on the far-away field. He saw the roan spurred beside the golden chestnut and both dashed away, neck and neck in a race, the light patrician form of the man leaning far forward and the girl swaying to the pace as if she and her hunter were one. John Valiant stood watching till the last rider was out of sight. There was a warm flush of color in his face. At length he turned with the ghost of a sigh, opened the hall door wide and stalking a hundred yards away, sat down on the shady grass and began to whistle, with his eyes on the door. Presently he was rewarded. On a sudden, around the edge of the sill peered a sharp, suspicious little muzzle. Then, like a flash of tawny light, the fox broke sanctuary and shot for the thicket. |
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