The next instant the deerhound came in sight, and in a few leaps would have attained his prey had not Martin been in the way; but the boy knelt on one knee, presenting his spear full at the dog, who, springing down a bank through the opening, literally impaled itself upon it.
“Good heavens!” said Hubert, “to kill a hound, a good hound like this.”
“Didn’t you see the poor fawn and its mother? I wasn’t going to let the brute touch them. I would have died first.”
Just then the voices of men came from the wood.
“See, they follow upon the track of the deer; let us run, we are in for it else.”
“I am not ashamed of my deed,” said Martin, “and would sooner face it out; if they are good men they will not blame me.”
“They will hang thee, that’s all—fly.”
“Too late; you go, leave me to pay the penalty of my own deed, if penalty there be.”
“What, forsake a comrade in distress? Nay, I would die first, that is a thing I would die for, but for a brute—never.”
A tall hunter, a man of most commanding appearance and stature, stood upon the scene. Two attendants followed behind.