Yes, it was only two
hours, or perhaps less, but it seemed a score of centuries. The slopes
of the Peak were now not more than ten miles ahead, but our horses were
giving out at last. They had borne us nobly, poor beasts, though we were
no light weights, yet their strength had its limits. The sweat ran from
them, their sides panted like bellows, they breathed in gasps, they
stumbled and would scarcely answer to the flogging of our spear-shafts.
Their gallop sank to a jolting canter, and I thought that soon they must
come to a dead stop.
We crossed the brow of a gentle rise, from which the ground, that was
sprinkled with bush and rocks, sloped downwards to where, some miles
below us, the river ran, bounding the enormous flanks of the Mountain.
When we had travelled a little way down this slope we were obliged to
turn in order to pass between two heaps of rock, which brought us side
on to its brow. And there, crossing it not more than three hundred yards
away, we saw the pack. There were fewer of them now; doubtless many
had fallen out of the hunt, but many still remained. Moreover, not far
behind them rode the Khan, though his second mount was gone, or more
probably he was riding it, having galloped the first to a standstill.
Our poor horses saw them also, and the sight lent them wings, for all
the while they knew that they were running for their lives.
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