“They will not pass the cloth, sir,” said the courier; “they think that it’s a trap.”
Sure enough the wolves, which had been gaining fast on the carriage, now retreated again; and although they continued the pursuit, it was at a great distance.
“We have an hour and a half more to go before we arrive, and it will be dark, I’m afraid,” said the courier; “all depends upon the horse holding out; I’m sure the pack is not far behind.”
“And how many are there in a pack?” inquired McShane.
The courier shrugged up his shoulders. “Perhaps two or three hundred.”
“Oh! the devil! Don’t I wish I was at home with Mrs McShane.”
For half an hour they continued their rapid pace, when the horse referred to showed symptoms of weakness. Still the wolves had not advanced beyond the piece of black cloth which trailed behind the carriage.
“I think that, considering that they are so hungry, they are amazing shy of the bait,” said McShane. “By all the powers, they’ve stopped again!”
“The string has broke, sir, and they are examining the cloth,” cried Joey.
“Is there much line left?” inquired the courier, with some alarm.