We were joined by no stragglers from the village, for the weather was cold and threatening, the way dreary, the footing bad, and the people had good fires in-doors and were keeping the day. A few faces hurried to windows and looked after us, but none came out. We passed the finger-post, and held straight on to the churchyard.
Now that we were out upon the dismal wilderness where they little thought I had been within three or four hours, I considered for the first time, with great dread, if we should come upon him, would my particular fugitive suppose that it was I who had brought the soldiers there? He had asked me if I was a deceiving imp, and he had said I should be a fierce young wolf if I joined the Hunt against him. Would he believe that I was both imp and wolf in treacherous earnest, and had betrayed him?
It was of no use asking myself this question now. There I was, on Joe's back, and there was Joe beneath me, charging at the ditches like a Hunter himself, and stimulating Mr. Wopsle not to tumble on his Roman nose, and to keep up with us. The Hunters were in front of us, extending into a pretty wide line with an interval between man and man. We were taking the course I had begun with, and from which I had diverged in the mist, which appeared to have been dispelled by the wind. Under the pale glare of the hidden sun, the beacon, and the gibbet, and the mound of the Battery, and the opposite shore of the river, were plain, though all of a watery lead colour.
The Hunters were moving on in the direction of the old Battery, and we were moving on a little way behind them, when, all of a sudden, we all stopped. For, there had reached us on the wings of the wind and rain, a long howl. It was repeated. It was at a distance towards the east, but it was long and loud. Nay, there seemed to be two or more howls raised together - if one might judge from a confusion in the sound. So we slanted to the right (where the East was), and Joe pounded away so wonderfully, that I had to hold on tight to keep my seat.
Down banks and up banks, and over gates, and splashing into dykes, and breaking among coarse rushes. As we came nearer to the howling, we could clearly hear men’s voices as well, hooting and hollering unrepeatable slurs and insults. We finally came upon a ring of men, who had formed the periphery of a sort of arena around two Howl Beasts. One, it appeared to me the gray sickly one I saw earlier, lay in a heap of bone and fur, chained to the ground. Its patched hide, what was left of it, was matted with blood, which oozed from open wounds formed by spikes and harpoons still stuck into the creature.
I looked quizzically at Joe who whispered to me, “Them Howlers can heal any wound made by a weapon, ‘sept a silver one a’course, but only the Nobles got those. So Brutes ‘ave to use weapons that stick and stay stuck. Keeps them wounds from closing up. Sorry sight to see, ain’t it, Pip, old chap.”
In the center of the ring, stood another Howl Beast. It was larger than the other, and covered in brown and black fur. A length of razor’d chain was wrapped around its waist, each end of which was being pulled by two Hunters, struggling to keep the creature in place. Each time the four Hunters pulled at the chain, tightening the coils around his midsection, the Beast let out a deafening howl. Those Hunters not handling the chain stood around at a distance, shouting at the Beast, hurling rocks, and sticking it with long steel-tipped pikes.
