It was so loud and close that of one accord the two listeners
jerked their heads about and stared at each other, and then turned their
eyes as hastily away, as though terrified by what they had seen--each in
the face of the other. It was no idle tune which they heard whistled.
This was a rising, soaring pean of delight. It rang down upon the
wind--it cut into their faces like the drops of the rain; it branded
itself like freezing cold into their foreheads.
And then, upon the crest of the nearest hill, Haw-Haw Langley saw a dim
figure through the mist, a man on a horse and something else running in
front; and they came swiftly.
"It's the wolf that's runnin' us down!" screamed Haw-Haw Langley. "Oh,
God A'mighty, even if we was to want to run, the wolf would come and
pull us down. Mac, will you save me? Will you keep the wolf away?"
He clung to the arm of his companion, but the other brushed him back
with a violence which almost unseated Haw-Haw.
"Keep off'n me," growled Mac Strann, "because when you touch me, it
feels like somethin' dead was next to my skin. Keep off'n me!"
Haw-Haw dragged himself back into the saddle with effort, for it was
slippery with rain. His face convulsed with something black as hate.
"It ain't long you'll do the orderin' and be so free with your hands.
He's comin'--soon! Mac, I'd like to stay--I'd like to see the
finish----" he stopped, his buzzard eyes glittering against the face of
the giant.
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