So when I was clear of the thicket and could see across the open
again I had lost them. Unless I could hear the hounds I had nothing
to guide me, and I drew rein and listened for them. As I heard
nothing I rode on until I had a stretch of open country before me,
but there I could see no more. Afterwards I learned that the deer
had turned and made for the hill again, but it did not seem likely
that he would do so with the waters of the haven so close at hand
as I could see them. It was more likely that he would head straight
for them, and so I spurred on once more in that direction. It was
certainly the best thing that I could do, and I had not far to go
before a mile of the open water was before me. But there was nought
on its banks but a row of patient herons, fishing or sleeping, and
the sight of them told me that no man had passed this way for many
a long hour.

I waited in that place for a few moments, to see if the deer made
for the refuge of the water from some cover that as yet hid him
from me, but he did not come. It was plain to me then that the hunt
had doubled back and that I was fairly thrown out, and I went no
farther. By this time Eric might be miles away, and I knew nothing
of the lie of the land, save that along the crest of the Ridgeway
ran the road from Tenby to Pembroke, and that once on that road I
could make my way back in no long time. That, as it seemed to me,
was the best thing that I could do, and I headed my horse at once
for the hill, going slowly, for it was no great distance, and it
was heavy going in the places where the snow had gathered in
drifts. I thought that maybe I should cross the track of the horses
and hounds, or hear Eric's horn before I had gone far, but I
reached the foot of the hill without doing either.