“Well, you know, or you ought to know, what your duty is in such a case.  You have to be whip, huntsman, and everything else if you are the first man up.  You get in among the hounds, lash them off, and keep the brush and pads from being destroyed.  Of course, Wat Danbury knew all about that, and he tried to force his mare through the trees to the place where all this hideous screaming and howling came from, but the wood was so thick that it was impossible to ride it.  He sprang off, therefore, left the mare standing, and broke his way through as best he could with his hunting-lash ready over his shoulder.

“But as he ran forward he felt his flesh go cold and creepy all over.  He had heard hounds run into foxes many times before, but he had never heard such sounds as these.  They were not the cries of triumph, but of fear.  Every now and then came a shrill yelp of mortal agony.  Holding his breath, he ran on until he broke through the interlacing branches, and found himself in a little, clearing with the hounds all crowding round a patch of tangled bramble at the further end.

“When he first caught sight of them the hounds were standing in a half-circle round this bramble patch, with their backs bristling and their jaws gaping.  In front of the brambles lay one of them with his throat torn out, all crimson and white-and-tan.  Wat came running out into the clearing, and at the sight of him the hounds took heart again, and one of them sprang with a growl into the bushes.  At the same instant, a creature the size of a donkey jumped on to its feet, a huge grey head, with monstrous glistening fangs and tapering fox jaws, shot out from among the branches, and the hound was thrown several feet into the air, and fell howling among the cover.  Then there was a clashing snap, like a rat-trap closing, and the howls sharpened into a scream and then were still.

“Danbury had been on the look-out for symptoms all day, and now he had found them.  He looked once more at the thicket, saw a pair of savage red eyes fixed upon him, and fairly took to his heels.  It might only be a passing delusion, or it might be the permanent mania of which the doctor had spoken, but anyhow, the thing to do was to get back to bed and to quiet, and to hope for the best.

“He forgot the hounds, the hunt, and everything else in his desperate fears for his own reason.  He sprang upon his mare, galloped her madly over the downs, and only stopped when he found himself at a country station.  There he left his mare at the inn, and made back for home as quickly as steam would take him.  It was evening before he got there, shivering with apprehension, and seeing those red eyes and savage teeth at every turn.  He went straight to bed and sent for Dr. Middleton.

“’I’ve got ’em, doctor,’ said he.  ’It came about exactly as you said—­ strange creatures, optical delusions, and everything.  All I ask you now is to save my reason.’  The doctor listened to his story, and was shocked as he heard it.