Rearing aloft, it fell
backwards in such manner as would have crushed an ordinary rider,
but Herne slipped off uninjured, and with incredible swiftness darted
among the trees. The others started in pursuit, and a chase
commenced in which the demon huntsman had to sustain the part of
the deer--nor could any deer have afforded better sport.
Away flew the pursued and pursuers over broad glade and through
tangled glen, the woods resounding with their cries. Bouchier did not
lose sight of the fugitive for a moment, and urged his men to push on;
but, despite his alternate proffers and menaces, they gained but little
on Herne, who, speeding towards the home park, cleared its high
palings with a single bound.
Over went Bouchier and his followers, and they then descried him
making his way to a large oak standing almost alone in the centre of a
wide glade. An instant afterwards he reached the tree, shook his arm
menacingly at his pursuers, and vanished.
The next moment Bouchier came up, flung himself from his panting
steed, and, with his drawn sword in hand, forced himself through a rift
in its side into the tree. There was a hollow within it large enough to
allow a man to stand upright, and two funnel-like holes ran upwards
into the branches.
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