Fast as Richard rode up the steep hill-side, still faster did the black clouds gather over his head.  No natural cause could have produced so instantaneous a change in the aspect of the sky, and the young man viewed it with uneasiness, and wished to get out of the thicket in which he was now involved, before the threatened thunder-storm commenced.  But the hill was steep and the road bad, being full of loose stones, and crossed in many places by bare roots of trees.  Though ordinarily surefooted, Merlin stumbled frequently, and Richard was obliged to slacken his pace.  It grew darker and darker, and the storm seemed ready to burst upon him.  The smaller birds ceased singing, and screened themselves under the thickest foliage; the pie chattered incessantly; the jay screamed; the bittern flew past, booming heavily in the air; the raven croaked; the heron arose from the river, and speeded off with his long neck stretched out; and the falcon, who had been hovering over him, sweeped sidelong down and sought shelter beneath an impending rock; the rabbit scudded off to his burrow in the brake; and the hare, erecting himself for a moment, as if to listen to the note of danger, crept timorously off into the long dry grass.

It grew so dark at last that the road was difficult to discern, and the dense rows of trees on either side assumed a fantastic appearance in the deep gloom.  Richard was now more than half-way up the hill, and the thicket had become more tangled and intricate, and the road narrower and more rugged.  All at once Merlin stopped, quivering in every limb, as if in extremity of terror.

Before the rider, and right in his path, glared a pair of red fiery orbs, with something dusky and obscure linked to them; but whether of man or beast he could not distinguish.

Richard called to it.  No answer.  He struck spurs into the reeking flanks of his horse.  The animal refused to stir.  Just then there was a moaning sound in the wood, as of some one in pain.  He turned in the direction, shouted, but received no answer.  When he looked back the red eyes were gone.

Then Merlin moved forward of his own accord, but ere he had gone far, the eyes were visible again, glaring at the rider from the wood.  This time they approached, dilating, and increasing in glowing intensity, till they scorched him like burning-glasses.  Bethinking him of the talisman, Richard drew it forth.  The light was instantly extinguished, and the indistinct figure accompanying it melted into darkness.

Once more Merlin resumed his toilsome way, and Richard was marvelling that the storm so long suspended its fury, when the sky was riven by a sudden blaze, and a crackling bolt shot down and struck the earth at his feet.  The affrighted steed reared aloft, and was with difficulty prevented from falling backwards upon his rider.  Almost before he could be brought to his feet, an awful peal of thunder burst overhead, and it required Richard’s utmost efforts to prevent him from rushing madly down the hill.