closing in; and it was only when MacIan with his big body broke
down the tangled barrier of a little wood, as men break down a
door with the shoulder; it was only when they vanished crashing
into the underworld of the black wood, that their hunters were
even instantaneously thrown off the scent.

At the risk of struggling a little longer like flies in that
black web of twigs and trunks, Evan (who had an instinct of the
hunter or the hunted) took an incalculable course through the
forest, which let them out at last by a forest opening--quite
forgotten by the leaders of the chase. They ran a mile or two
farther along the edge of the wood until they reached another and
somewhat similar opening. Then MacIan stood utterly still and
listened, as animals listen, for every sound in the universe.
Then he said: "We are quit of them." And Turnbull said: "Where
shall we go now?"

MacIan looked at the silver sunset that was closing in, barred by
plumy lines of purple cloud; he looked at the high tree-tops that
caught the last light and at the birds going heavily homeward,
just as if all these things were bits of written advice that he
could read.

Then he said: "The best place we can go to is to bed. If we can
get some sleep in this wood, now everyone has cleared out of it,
it will be worth a handicap of two hundred yards tomorrow."

Turnbull, who was exceptionally lively and laughing in his
demeanour, kicked his legs about like a schoolboy and said he did
not want to go to sleep. He walked incessantly and talked very