In half an hour the stars were obscured by a thin veil of fleecy clouds,
and, striking no trail in the bottoms, they turned to the big tract of
woods on the hills and plunged straight into their depths for two miles.
"Hush!"
Tom suddenly stopped:
Far off to the right came the bark of a dog on the run.
"Ain't that old Boney's voice?" the father asked.
"I don't think so," the Boy answered.
The note of wild savage music was one he had never heard before.
"Yes it was, too," was the emphatic decision. He squared his broad
shoulders and gave the hunter's shout of answer-joy to the dog's call.
Never had the Boy heard such a shout from human lips. It sent shivers
down his spine.
The dog heard and louder came the answering note, a deep tremulous boom
through the woods that meant to the older man's trained ear that he was
on the run.
"That's old Boney shore's yer born!" the father cried, "an' he ain't got
no doubts 'bout hit nother. He's got his head in the air. The trail's so
hot he don't have ter nose the ground. You'll hear somethin' in a minute
when the younger pups git to him."
Two hounds suddenly opened with long quivering wails.
"Thar's my dogs--they've hit it now!" Dennis cried excitedly.
Another hound joined the procession, then another and another, and in
two minutes the whole pack of eight were in full cry.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66