rned tail.

"We shall have to follow the scent now," said Dick, when the pack
suddenly disappeared to view over the ridge. "Thank goodness, it's all
white paper, and plenty of it. Come on, you fellows, we'll run it
through yet."

"I feel quite fresh," said Coote, mopping his head with his
handkerchief. "How far do you think we've gone--six miles?"

"Six! we've not done a mile and a half yet."

Coote put away his handkerchief, and gave the buckle of his running
drawers a hitch; and the "Firm" settled down to business.

Having once found out their pace, and got their second wind, they felt
comparatively comfortable. The scent lay true up the ridge, and as they
rose foot by foot, and presently breasted the bluff nor'-wester, they
felt like keeping it up for a week.

"Hullo, I say," cried Georgie, when the top of the ridge was gained,
"there they go right under us; we might almost catch them by a short
cut."

"Can't do it," said Dick, decisively. "We're bound to follow the scent,
even if the hares doubled and came back across this very place."

"Would real harriers do that?" asked Coote. "If I was a real harrier,
and saw the hare close to me, I'd go for him no matter what the scent
was."

"All very well, you can't do it to-day--not if you want to get on the
list," said Dick. "They've taken a sharp turn, though, at the bottom."

Trotting down a steep hill is not one of the joys of the chase, and our
heroes, by the time they got to the level bottom, felt as bruised and
shaken as if they had been in a railway accident.

However, a mile on the flat pulled them together again, and they plodded
on by Bardie's Farm, where the scent became sparse, and on to Steg
where, for the first time since leaving Templeton, they came upon traces
of their fellow-man.

The worthy inhabitants of Steg, particularly the junior portion of them,
hailed our three heroes with demonstrations of friendly interest. They
had turned out fully half an hour ago to see the main body of the hunt
go by, and just as they were returning regretfully to their ordinary
occupations, the cry of "Three more of 'em!" came as a welcome reprieve,
and brought them back into the highway in full force.

Fond of their joke were the friendly youth of Steg, and considering the
quiet life they led, their wit was none of the dullest.

"Hurrah! Here's three more hounds!"

"They's the puppies, I reckon."

"Nay, one of 'em's got the rickets, see."

"If