Less than a quarter of an hour brought them to the haunted beech-tree;
but all was as silent and solitary here as at the blasted oak. In vain
Surrey smote the tree. No answer was returned to the summons; and,
finding all efforts to evoke the demon fruitless, they quitted the spot,
and, turning their horses' heads to the right, slowly ascended the hill-
side.
Before they had gained the brow of the hill the faint blast of a horn
saluted their ears, apparently proceeding from the valley near the lake.
They instantly stopped and looked in that direction, but could see
nothing. Presently, however, the blast was repeated more loudly than
before, and, guided by the sound, they discerned the spectral huntsman
riding beneath the trees at some quarter of a mile's distance.
Striking spurs into their steeds, they instantly gave him chase; but
though he lured them on through thicket and over glade--now climbing
a hill, now plunging into a valley, until their steeds began to show
symptoms of exhaustion- they got no nearer to him; and at length, as
they drew near the Home Park, to which he had gradually led them, he
disappeared from view.
"I will take my station near the blasted oak," said Surrey, galloping
towards it: "the demon is sure to revisit his favourite tree before cock-
crowing.
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