She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. This whole affair is truly my fault. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. Gerald’s judgement was borne out a moment later.
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