“How do you mean to dispatch the lad in the next room?” asked the old woman in an under tone.  The elder son made her a sign to be silent, and pointed towards the door where their trembling auditor was concealed; while the other, with an expression of brutal ferocity, passed his bloody knife across his throat.

The pedlar boy possessed a bold and daring spirit, which was now roused to desperation; but in any open resistance the odds were so completely against him, that flight seemed his best resource.  He gently stole to the window, and having by one desperate effort broken the rusty bolt by which the casement had been fastened, he let himself down without noise or difficulty.  This betokens good, thought he, pausing an instant in dreadful hesitation what direction to take.  This momentary deliberation was fearfully interrupted by the hoarse voice of the men calling aloud, “The boy has fled—­let loose the bloodhound!” These words sunk like a death-knell on his heart, for escape appeared now impossible, and his nerves seemed to melt away like wax in a furnace.  Shall I perish without a struggle! thought he, rousing himself to exertion, and, helpless and terrified as a hare pursued by its ruthless hunters, he fled across the heath.  Soon the baying of the bloodhound broke the stillness of the night, and the voice of its masters sounded through the moor, as they endeavoured to accelerate its speed,—­panting and breathless the boy pursued his hopeless career, but every moment his pursuers seemed to gain upon his failing steps.  The hound was unimpeded by the darkness which was to him so impenetrable, and its noise rung louder and deeper on his ear—­while the lanterns which were carried by the men gleamed near and distinct upon his vision.

At his fullest speed, the terrified boy fell with violence over a heap of stones, and having nothing on but his shirt, he was severely cut in every limb.  With one wild cry to Heaven for assistance, he continued prostrate on the earth, bleeding, and nearly insensible.  The hoarse voices of the men, and the still louder baying of the dog, were now so near, that instant destruction seemed inevitable,—­already he felt himself in their fangs, and the bloody knife of the assassin appeared to gleam before his eyes,—­despair renewed his energy, and once more, in an agony of affright that seemed verging towards madness, he rushed forward so rapidly that terror seemed to have given wings to his feet.  A loud cry near the spot he had left arose on his ears without suspending his flight.  The hound had stopped at the place where the Pedlar’s wounds bled so profusely, and deeming the chase now over, it lay down there, and could not be induced to proceed; in vain the men beat it with frantic violence, and tried again to put the hound on the scent,—­the sight of blood had satisfied the animal that its work was done, and with dogged resolution it resisted every inducement to pursue the same scent a second time.  The pedlar boy in