"The death-hounds!" I muttered, clasping Leo by the arm.
"Yes," he answered, "they are running that poor devil. Here comes the huntsman."
As he spoke there appeared a second figure, splendidly mounted, a cloak streaming from his shoulders, and in his hand a long whip, which he waved. He was big but loosely jointed, and as he passed he turned his face also, and we saw that it was that of a madman. There could be no doubt of it; insanity blazed in those hollow eyes and rang in that savage, screeching laugh.
"The Khan! The Khan!" said Simbri, bowing, and I could see that he was afraid.
Now he too was gone, and after him came his guards. I counted eight of them, all carrying whips, with which they flogged their horses.
"What does this mean, friend Simbri?" I asked, as the sounds grew fain
