on foot with a pack of great hounds, the like of which I had never
seen. They were the Danish hounds, which had come hither with their
masters, and were big and strong enough for any quarry, even were
it the bear that yet lurked in the Welsh mountain wilds.

Then Howel came, and would have me mounted well, and in less than
half an hour we were riding eastward along the ancient way they
call the Ridgeway, which crowns the long hill between the sea and
the valleys where lie the windings of Milford Haven. And so we went
till we could see Tenby itself far off on its rocky ness, and at
that point left Thorgils to go his way, while we turned northward
into the inland valleys, and sought the deep combe where they had
harboured the stag.

The snow lay here and there yet, but it was almost gone, and the
going was somewhat heavy, but overhead the sky was soft and grey,
and the wind was pleasant if chill. North and west it was, and that
would be fair for our crossing, if only it would hold, as Thorgils
deemed that it surely would.

Now it was good to hear the horn and the cheer of the hunters as
they drew the deep cover for the deer, and the half-dozen couple of
hounds that were held back in leash while the rest were at their
work strained and whimpered to be with them. And at last the great
stag broke from the cover, in no haste, but in a sort of disdain of
those who had disturbed him, and after him came a few scurrying
hinds who huddled to him for safely. They trotted to another cover,
and after them streamed the hounds, and then the great stag was
driven alone from his hiding, and so the pack was laid on and we
were away.