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In a short time I got up, and after looking around I saw the outlines of plantation houses in the distance. On going to them I found a resting-place in a fodder-loft, in the horse-lot of the plantation. I ensconced myself in the fodder, when I again heard the infernal yelps of the blood-hounds, and the more infernal yelps of the white pursuers urging the hounds after the poor runaway.
There were whispered rumours of the enchanted herbs that he employed to lure these suspicious animals from their holes into his nets. However, as people found themselves better off for his magic, no one dreamt of denouncing it as criminal. I do not know if you have ever seen one of the rat-hunts. It is a curious sight, especially in a fodder-loft.
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