’ ‘Alas. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood. She feasted reluctantly, partly out of wonder at the new function of her often elongated canines. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey.
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