d
pounce。 He pinwheeled his arms madly and lunged ahead； his center of gravity
dancing just beyond his nose。 He caught it and hurried on； snapping glances back
over his shoulder。 The air whistled in and out of his dry throat like hot glass。
The world closed down to the dazzling snow； the green hedges； and the whispery
sound of his snowshoes。 And something else。 A soft； muffled padding sound。 He
tried to hurry faster and couldn't。 He was walking over the buried driveway now；
a small boy with his face almost buried in the shadow of his parka hood。 The
afternoon was still and bright。
When he looked back again； the point lion was only five feet behind。 It was
grinning。 Its mouth was open； its haunches tensed down like a clockspring。
Behind it and the others he could see the rabbit； its head now sticking out of
the snow； bright green； as if it had turned its horrid blank face to watch the
end of the stalk。
Now； on the Overlook's front lawn between the circular drive and the porch； he
let the panic loose and began to run clumsily in the snowshoes； not daring to
look back now； tilting further and further forward； his arms out ahead of him
like a blind man feeling for obstacles。 His hood fell back； revealing his
plexion； paste white giving way to hectic red blotches on his cheeks； his
eyes bulging with terror。 The porch was very close now。
Behind him he heard the sudden hard crunch of snow as something leaped。
He fell on the porch steps； screaming without sound； and scrambled up them on
his hands and knees； snowshoes clattering and askew behind him。
There was a slashing sound in the air and sudden pain in his leg。 The r