The mist
was so thick that he could not see his own extended hand. It
was not the first time that it had occurred to him that some
one or something was hovering about his course.
"Who is there?" exclaimed Egremont. But no one answered.
He moved on a little, but very slowly. He felt assured that
his ear caught a contiguous step. He repeated his
interrogatory in a louder tone, but it obtained no response.
Again he stopped. Suddenly he was seized; an iron grasp
assailed his throat, a hand of steel griped his arm. The
unexpected onset hurried him on. The sound of waters assured
him that he was approaching the precipitous bank of that part
of the river which, from a ledge of pointed rocks, here formed
rapids. Vigorous and desperate, Egremont plunged like some
strong animal on whom a beast of prey had made a fatal spring.
His feet clung to the earth as if they were held by some
magnetic power. With his disengaged arm he grappled with his
mysterious and unseen foe.
At this moment he heard the deep bay of a hound.
"Harold!" he exclaimed. The dog, invisible, sprang forward
and seized upon his assailant. So violent was the impulse
that Egremont staggered and fell, but he fell freed from his
dark enemy.
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