As they were entering an open space that lay between two wooded enclosures, a white hare started across their path, to the utter consternation of those who were in pursuit.  Woodward, now disguised and in his mask, had been for a considerable time looking behind him, but this circumstance did not escape his notice, and he felt, to say the least of it, startled at her second appearance.  It reminded him, however, of the precautions which he had taken; and he looked back from time to time, as we have said, in expectation of something appertaining to the pursuit.  At length he exclaimed,

“Where are the party with the blood-hounds?  Why have they not joined us and come up with us?

“They have started a wolf,” replied one of them, “and the dogs are after him; and some of them have gone back upon the trail of the wounded men.”

“Return for them,” said he; “without their assistance we can never find the trail of these accursed tories; but, above all, of Shawn-na-Middoque.”

In due time the dogs were brought up, but the trails were so various that they separated mostly into single hunts, and went at such a rapid speed that they were lost in the woods.

At length two of them who came up first, gave tongue, and the body of pursuers concentrated themselves on the newly-discovered trail, keeping as close to the dogs as they could.  Those two had quartered the woods and returned to the party again when they fell upon the slot of some unfortunate victim who had recently escaped from the place.  The pursuit now became energetic and full of interest, if we could forget the melancholy and murderous fact that the game pursued were human victims, who had nothing more nor less to expect from their pursuers than the savage wolves which then infested the forests—­a price having been laid upon the heads of each.

After some time the party arrived at the outskirts of the wood, and an individual was seen bounding along in the direction of the mountains—­the two dogs in full pursuit of him.  The noise, the animation, and the tumult of the pursuit were now astounding, and rang long and loud over the surface of the excited and awakened neighborhood, whilst the wild echoes of their inhuman enjoyment were giving back their terrible responses from the hills and valleys around them.  The shouting, the urging on of the dogs by ferocious cries of encouragement, were loud, incessant, and full of a spirit which, at this day, it is terrible to reflect upon.  The whole country was alive; and the loud, vociferous agitation which disturbed it, resembled the influence of one of those storms which lash the quiet sea into madness.  Fresh crowds joined them, as we have said, and the tumult still became louder and stronger.  In the meantime, Shawn-na-Middogue’s case—­it was he—­became hopeless—­for it was the speed of the fleetest runner that ever lived to that of two powerful bloodhounds, animated, as they were, by their ferocious instincts.  Indeed, the interest of the chase was heightened by the manner and conduct of the dogs, which, when they came upon the trail of the individual, in question, yelped aloud with an ecstatic delight that gave fresh courage to the vociferous band of pursuers.