“He’s a man who have got a regular mind despite his dangerous past,” said the old chap.  “You might think such a venturesome way of life would make him reckless and lawless; but far from it.  His experience have made him see the high value of law and order.”

“He’s brave as a lion seemingly,” ventured Millicent, and her father allowed it was so.

“An undaunted man,” he admitted, “and his gifts will run to waste now, because, unless you’re in the police, or else a gamekeeper, there’s little call for courage.”

Mrs. Meadows was a lot worse when they came home and they got her to bed and put a hot brick in flannel to her feet; but she’d had the like attacks before and John weren’t feared for her till the dead of night; and then she went off her head and he touched her and found she was living fire.  So he had to call up his girl and explain that, for all he could tell, death might be knocking at the door.

Such things we say, little knowing we be prophets; but in truth a fearful peril threatened the Meadows folk that night, though ’twas Millicent and not her mother was like to be in highest danger.

“’Tis doctor,” said John, “and I can’t leave her, for she may die in my arms, so you must go; and best to run as never you run before.  Go straight through Dean Wood and don’t draw breath till you’ve got to the man.”

She was up and rayed in less than no time and away quick-footed through the forest; and so swift had been her actions that she hoped to cheat her own fear of the darkness and get through Dean Woods afore she had time to quail.  But you can’t hoodwink Nature that way, and not long afore the trees had swallowed her up Millicent felt nameless dread pulling at her heart and all her senses tingling with terror.  She kept her mind on her mother, however, and sped on with her face set before her, though a thousand instincts cried to her to look behind for the nameless things that might be following after.

’Twas a frosty night with a winter moon high in the sky, and Millicent, who knew the Woodman’s Path blindfold, much wished it had been darker, for the moonlight was strong enough to show queer faces in every tree-hole and turn the shadows from the trees into monsters upon her path at every yard.  She prayed as she went along.

“My duty—­my duty,” she said.  “God help me to do my duty and save mother!”

Then she knew she was coming close to the Hound’s Pool and hesitated for fear, and wondered if she might track into the woods and escape the ordeal.  But that wasn’t possible without a lot of time wasted, and so she lifted up another petition to her Maker and went on.  She’d travelled a mile by now and there was another mile to go.  And then she came alongside the Pool and held her hands to her breast and kept her eyes away from the water, where it spread death-still with the moon looking up very peaceful out of it.  But a moment later and poor Millicent got the fearfullest shock of her life, for right ahead, suddenly without a sound of warning, stark and huge with the moonlight on his great open mouth, appeared the Hound.  From nowhere he’d come, but there he stood within ten yards of her, barring the way.  And she heard him growl and saw him come forward to meet her.