The neighboring hillsides took up the sound, and threw it back in tones of purest silver, and all the echoes of the valleys were awakened and fled away towards the rising sun. This warm February sun had done its work, and the snow had disappeared to a level of but a few inches, covered with a hard crust. We started off at a gallop. Sebalt and Sperver rode first, with Odile, the Count, and myself close behind them. Becker and the under-keepers came on in the rear.
Sebalt led the pack along the base of the Gaisenberg, and skirting the falls of the Lauterbach, he followed along the defile at its further side, from which point the trail diverged in the direction of the Leidenthal. The weather was superb, not a cloud in the heavens, and the frosty air clear as crystal. The bare oaks creaked their gaunt branches, and the singing pines waved their lofty tops in the fresh south wind. The yelping of the pack could have been heard for a mile around, and Gideon, turning from time to time, called to them:
"Hold your noise, you rascals; you'll have reason enough to howl before long, I'll warrant."
There was little chance for conversation at the furious pace which we were following, and I contented myself with frequent glances at Odile, whose superb beauty was enhanced by the bright color in her cheeks, which excitement, exercise and happiness called forth. As for the Count, I could no longer recognize in him the dying patient of my first night at Nideck. All trace of his terrible illness had vanished, and he rode like a youth of twenty years, vigorous, calm, confident.
At the end of an hour we emerged from the defile into the dazzling sunlight beyond. The dogs came upon the trail of the boar, and their long, full cries changed to exultant yappings; they glided along to right and left among the rocks, their noses to the ground, and they ran and leaped along the trail. Not one of them followed the other's lead, until he had verified the scent for himself; like all true hunting dogs, they relied only upon themselves.
Meanwhile, the blast of the horn, the short, savage yelps of the pack, and the noise of our horses' hoofs as they pierced the sparkling snow crust, made music of an exciting, bewildering sort. I galloped on imbued to the finger-tips with the contagious anticipation everywhere around me.
For some little time past the order of the hunt had been broken up. The Count, seemingly lost in the one object of the chase and oblivious to all else, had ridden far ahead, and had almost overtaken Sebalt and Sperver, who were at such a distance from us that the sound of their trumpets grew feebler and feebler, and at length were entirely lost, save that at rare intervals they reached our ears like the sigh of the passing breeze. The mounts of Becker and his comrades, though chosen for endurance and strength, were not the equal of ours in speed; and thus it was that Odile and I now found ourselves alone, as it were, midway in the plain.
On we went. Every now and then Odile would turn her head and smile at me; then she would whisper to her horse, and we bounded along yet faster. From the less frequent pauses of the pack, that glided, no larger than rabbits now, up the distant slopes, and their straight-ahead course, I fancied that the foremost of the party were approaching the whereabouts of the game.
It was now that a belt of dense woods became visible on the rising ground before us. The Count had by this time gained so far upon us that we presently saw him disappear, together with his followers, within its borders.
"We must be in at the death!" cried Odile breathlessly; "let's make haste!" and she urged her horse still further, while I clapped spurs to mine. Twenty minutes later we had covered the intervening distance, and dashed into the shadows of the wood.