Hereafter silence fell upon the trio. Each man’s thoughts were busy with the things of the future. Would they ever find a way out of this underworld, or were they doomed to wander in its ghostly wilds until death released them? At the moment their prospect was not an alluring one!
Without any settled plan for the future, save to put as great a distance as possible between themselves and the wolf-men, they seemed helpless. Haverly’s active mind revolved all the expedients which presented themselves, yet, even to him, the case seemed almost hopeless.
“Say, professor,” he cried, breaking the long silence, “ain’t you got——”
His sentence was never finished, for at that instant, from far behind, came a series of hideous yelps. Softened by distance though they were, the sounds were frightful enough to the ears of the fugitives.
“They’ve struck our trail again,” remarked Seymour, stopping for a moment. Then a puzzled expression passed over his features, as a low, rumbling roar, not unlike far-away thunder, rolled up out of the distance, accompanied by a further series of wolfish cries.
“I opine we’re going to strike trouble very shortly,” averred Silas, “though I allow I don’t hardly tumble to the meanin’ of this yer rumbling.”
Quickly the rumbling grew into the pounding of giant hoofs, and the ground shook beneath the fugitives’ feet.
“A stampede!” the baronet cried. “The devils have stampeded a herd of animals! Run for your lives!”
But his friends needed no urging. They ran as men with the fear of death upon them, gazing eagerly to right and left in hope of finding some cave or cleft in the cliffs in which they might hide.
But never a crack or a crevice appeared in the iron walls, and ever the pitiless thunder of the great hoofs drew nearer. It seemed as though nought could save the ill-fated trio from the vengeance which the devilish priest had designed for them. Then, almost at the last moment, an inspiration flashed into Haverly’s mind.