A wolf-hunt or a boar-hunt would not have excited me
near so much.
The snow was flying in our rear; sometimes splinters of ice, bitten off
by the horse-shoes, like shavings of iron from machinery, whizzed past
our ears.
Sperver, sometimes with his nose in the air and his red moustache
floating in the wind, sometimes with his grey eyes intently following
the track, reminded me of those famous Cossacks that I had seen pass
through Germany when I was a boy; and his tall, lanky horse, muscular and
full-maned, its body as slender as a greyhound's, completed the illusion.
Lieverle, in a high state of enthusiasm and excitement, took bounds
sometimes as high as our horses' backs, and I could not but tremble at
the thought that when we came up at last with the Pest he might tear her
in pieces before we could prevent him.
But the old woman gave us all the trouble she could; on every hill she
doubled, at every hillock there was a false track.
"After all, it is easy here," cried Sperver, "to what it will be in the
wood. We shall have to keep our eyes open there! Do you see the accursed
beast? Here she has confused the track! There she has been amusing
herself sweeping the trail, and then from that height which is exposed to
the wind she has slipped down to the stream, and has crept along through
the cresses to get to the underwood.
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