The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All Read Online Free PDF

buffalo."
        Scobie shrugged. "Blackwood's Baby is twice the size of any buck you've set eyes on, I'll reckon."
        "Pshaw!" Mr. Williams cut himself a plug and stuffed it into his mouth. He nudged his roan sideways, disengaging from the conversation.
        "I say, let's have at this stag," Mr. Wesley said, to which Lord Bullard nodded.
        "Damned tooting. I'd like a crack at the critter," Mr. Briggs said.
        "The dogs are tired and it's late," Scobie said. "I've marked the trail, so we can find it easy tomorrow."
        "Bloody hell!" Lord Bullard said. "We've light yet. I've paid my wage to nab this beastie, so I say lead on!"
        "Easy, now," Mr. Welloc said. "Night's on us soon and these woods get very, very dark. Crashing about is foolhardy, and if Master Scobie says the dogs need rest, then best to heed his word."
        Lord Bullard rolled his eyes. "What do you suggest, then?"
        Scobie said, "Camp is set around the corner. We've got hunting shacks scattered along these trails. I'll kennel the hounds at one and meet you for another go at daybreak."
        "A sensible plan," Mr. McEvoy said. As the shadows deepened and men and horses became smoky ghosts in the dying light, he'd begun to cast apprehensive glances over his shoulder.
        Luke Honey had to admit there was a certain eeriness to the surroundings, a sense of inimical awareness that emanated from the depths of the forest. He noted how the horses flared their nostrils and shifted skittishly. There were boars and bears in this preserve, although he doubted any lurked within a mile after all the gunfire and barking. He'd experienced a similar sense of menace in Africa near the hidden den of a terrible lion, a dreaded man eater. He rubbed his horse's neck and kept a close watch on the bushes.
        Mr. Landscomb clasped Scobie's elbow. "Once you've seen to the animals, do leave them to the lads. I'd enjoy your presence after supper."
        Scobie looked unhappy. He nodded curtly and left with the boy.
        Camp was a fire pit centered between two boulders the size of carriages. A dilapidated lean-to provided a dry area to spread sleeping bags and hang clothes. Stable boys materialized to unsaddle the horses and tether them behind the shed. Lodge workers had ignited a bonfire and laid out a hot meal sent from the chef. This meal included the roasted heart and liver from the buck Lord Bullard brought down earlier.
        "Not sure I'd tuck into those vittles," Mr. Williams said, waving his fork at Lord Bullard and Mr. Wesley. "Should let that meat cool a day or two, else you'll get the screamin' trots."
        Mr. McEvoy stopped shoveling beans into his mouth to laugh. "That's right. Scarf enough of that liver and you'll think you caught dysentery."
        Lord Bullard spooned a jellified chunk of liver into his mouth. "Bollocks. Thirty years afield in the muck and the mud with boot leather and ditchwater for breakfast. My intestines are made of iron. Aye, Wes?"
        "You've got the right of it," Mr. Wesley said, although sans his typical enthusiasm. He'd set aside his plate but half finished and now nursed a bottle of Laphroaig.
        Luke Honey shucked his soaked jacket and breeches and warmed his toes by the fire with a plate of steak, potatoes and black coffee. He cut the meat into tiny pieces because chewing was difficult. It pleased him to see Mr. Wesley favoring his own ribs whenever he laughed. The Englishman, doughty as he was, seemed rather sickly after a day's exertion. Luke Honey faintly hoped he had one foot in the grave.
        A dank mist crept through the trees and the men instinctively clutched blankets around themselves and huddled closer to the blaze, and Luke Honey saw that everyone kept a rifle or pistol near to hand. A wolf howled not too far off and all eyes turned toward the darkness that pressed against the edges of firelight. The horses nickered softly.
        Dr.