his awful self, and was now scenting prey. Had the man made a single
movement he would have been upon him like lightning; but the few
moments he took in creeping towards him, gave Dorothy all the time
she needed. With resolute, though trembling hands, she undid
Marquis's collar.

The instant he was free, the fine animal went at the panther
straight and fast like a bolt from a cross-bow. But Dorothy loved
him too well to lose a moment in sending even a glance after him.
Leaving him to his work, she flew to hers, which lay at the next
kennel, that of an Irish wolf-hound, whose curling lip showed his
long teeth to the very root, and whose fury had redoubled at the
sight of his rival shooting past him free for the fight. So wildly
did he strain upon his collar, that she found it took all her
strength to unclasp it. In a much shorter time, however, than she
fancied, O'Brien too was on the panther, and the sounds of
cano-feline battle seemed to fill every cranny of her brain.

But now she heard the welcome cries of men and clatter of weapons.
Some, alarmed by Tom Fool, came rushing from the guard-rooms down
the stair, and others, chiefly farm-servants and grooms, who had
heard the frightful news from two that were in the yard when the
panther bounded over the wall, were approaching from the opposite
side, armed with scythes and pitchforks, the former more dangerous
to their bearers than to the beast.

Dorothy, into whom, girl as she was, either Bellona or Diana, or
both, had entered, was now thoroughly excited by the conflict she
ruled, although she had not wasted a moment in watching it. Having
just undone the collar of the fourth dog, she was hounding him on