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He
thought
of
the
quarrel
--
the
hat
--
the
cloak
.
He
writhed
as
he
contemplated
the
labyrinth
of
dark
ambiguities
that
presented
itself
to
his
mind
.
Never
in
his
life
had
his
analytical
powers
been
so
completely
baffled
.
He
groaned
as
he
felt
their
impotence
.
He
kept
no
watch
upon
the
door
.
He
knew
that
if
they
came
,
it
would
not
be
in
the
night
.
Once
only
he
went
out
;
but
that
was
near
morning
,
when
the
light
of
the
moon
was
beginning
to
mingle
with
that
of
the
day
.
He
had
been
summoned
by
a
sound
.
Tara
,
straying
among
the
trees
,
had
given
utterance
to
a
long
dismal
"
gowl
,
"
and
come
running
scared-like
into
the
hut
.
Extinguishing
the
light
,
Zeb
stole
forth
,
and
stood
listening
.
There
was
an
interruption
to
the
nocturnal
chorus
;
but
that
might
have
been
caused
by
the
howling
of
the
hound
?
What
had
caused
it
?
The
hunter
directed
his
glance
first
upon
the
open
lawn
;
then
around
its
edge
,
and
under
the
shadow
of
the
trees
.
There
was
nothing
to
be
seen
there
,
except
what
should
be
.
He
raised
his
eyes
to
the
cliff
,
that
in
a
dark
line
trended
along
the
horizon
of
the
sky
--
broken
at
both
ends
by
the
tops
of
some
tall
trees
that
rose
above
its
crest
.
There
were
about
fifty
paces
of
clear
space
,
which
he
knew
to
be
the
edge
of
the
upper
plain
terminating
at
the
brow
of
the
precipice
.
The
line
separating
the
chiaro
from
the
oscuro
could
be
traced
distinctly
as
in
the
day
.
A
brilliant
moon
was
beyond
it
.
A
snake
could
have
been
seen
crawling
along
the
top
of
the
cliff
.
