Then Allan rubbed his drowsy eyes and questioned if he had not been dreaming. But suddenly from behind him there came through the still air a strange, weird, human voice that startled him more than the sight of any wild animal might have done.
"Allan Redmain," it said hurriedly, "is this you?"
"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Allan, turning round, "who spoke?"
And against the darkness of the tree trunks he again saw two shining eyes, on a level with his own, and scarce a couple of yards' distance away from him.
Now, whether it was that those eyes but reflected the wan light of dawn that was breaking above the eastern hills, or that they did indeed shine red and green by turns as did the eyes of the wolf, may not be told. But Allan shrank back at sight of them with a gruesome fear at his heart.
"Hush, hush!" said the voice in a whisper that was scarcely louder than the sighing of the wind among the trees. "It is I, Aasta of Kilmory."
"Saint Columba help me!" said Allan. "Aasta? Aasta the wolf maiden? What trick is this you have played me? It is you, then, and no wolf that I have been following? And I had nearly slain you!"
"Listen, Allan Redmain; and, I beg you, make no noise," said Aasta, drawing nearer. "Listen if you hear not footsteps on the moor yonder."
Allan held in his breath for a moment, and in the stillness he heard indeed the pat, pat of a pair of feet hurrying away.
"Well," he said, "I do in truth hear footsteps. But what of that? 'Tis but the tread of some wild boar or prowling wolf."