CHAPTER IIThe Huntsman
Someone was laughing. It sounded far away. Boyce opened his eyes and looked up dazedly at a drift of blue-grey mist floating before his face. Beyond and above it he could see more mist, layer upon layer hanging in the dim cool air, and above them—mountains?—great walls of rock that vanished into the fog.
The laughter came again. It was not far away—it was close by, and there was a snarl in it. He sat up stiffly, wondering where he was.
There was clear glass, broken into glittering fragments, lying all around him. Boyce remembered.
But now he lay upon a shelf of stone, cold and a little damp, and behind him when he twisted to look was a grey rocky wall rising sheer into clouds. Window? There was none. Yet he must have emerged here, upon this ledge, for here lay th
