orth your while to take such a
short trot," said Cresswell, with a grin.

"We're going to try," said Dick, resolutely. "Who are the hares,
Cresswell?"

"Swinstead and Birket; good hares, too. But, I say, youngsters, you'd
better not make asses of yourselves. If you like to come the first mile
or two, all right, but take my advice and turn back before you're too
far from home."

"We're going to run it through," said Dick, "if we possibly can."

"We want to get on the Sociables' list," blurted out the confiding
Coote; "that's why."

Dick and Heathcote blushed up guiltily, and rushed their indiscreet chum
off before he had time to unbosom himself further.

Cresswell, with the grin still on his honest face, turned into
Freckleton's study.

"By Jove! old man," said he, "you'll have a lot to answer for, the rate
you're going on. There are three youngsters--my fag Dick and his two
chums--going to run this hunt through, because their names are not on
your precious list. They'll kill themselves."

"Hurrah!" cried the Hermit. "I'm delighted--not, of course, about the
killing, but I like spirit. I hope they'll scramble through. Mark my
word, Cress., those three partners will make their mark in Templeton
yet."

"They're likely to make their mark at a coroner's inquest," said
Cresswell. "Did _you_ ever run in a twelve-mile hunt?"

"No, thank you," said the Hermit. "Well, I only hope they'll cool down
before they go too far, that's all," said the whipper-in. "They don't
know what they're in for."

"They're in for the 'Sociables,' and more power to them, say I," said
the Hermit. When Cresswell arrived at the meet, he found our heroes the
centres of attraction to the crowd who usually assembled to see the
hounds "throw off."

They bore their honours meekly, and affected an indifference they were
far from feeling to the chaff and expostulations which showered upon
them from all sides.

"All show off!" cried Gosse. "They'll sit down and have a nap under the
first hedge, and make believe they ran it through."

"Come, youngsters," said Cartwright, "you've had a jolly little game.
Better go home and put on your trousers, and not try to be funny for too
long together."

"Is it true," said someone else, with a significant jerk of his head in
the direction of the "Firm," "that the hares are going to make a twenty-
mile run of it, instead of twelve?"

"Of course we go through Turner's field, where the mad bull