re still there. It was not an unbroken flight. They stopped now and
then for rest, but, when the voice of the hound came near again, they
would resume their easy run toward the South. At every stop Tom Ross
would turn his back to the others, take out his hunting knife and begin
to whittle at something. But when they started again the hunting knife
was back in its sheath once more, and Tom's appearance was as usual.

The sun passed slowly up the arch of the heavens. The morning coolness
had gone long since from the air, but the foliage of the great forest
protected them. Often, when the shade was not so dense they ran over
smooth, springy turf, and they were even deliberate enough, as the hours
passed, to eat a little food from their packs. Twice they knelt and
drank at the brooks.

They made no attempt to conceal their trail, knowing that it was
useless, but Henry and Shif'less Sol, their rifles always lying in the
hollows of their arms, never failed to seek a glimpse of the relentless
hound. It was fully noon when the character of the country began to
change slightly. The hills were a little higher and there was more
underbrush. Just as they reached a crest Henry looked back. In the far
bushes, he saw a long dark form and a pointed gray head with glittering
eyes. He knew that it was the great dog, a wolf hound; he was sure now,
and, quick as a flash, he raised his rifle and fired at a point directly
between the glittering eyes. The dog dropped out of sight and the five
ran on.

"Do you think you killed him, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol breathlessly.

"I don't know; I hope so."

Behind them rose a deep bay, the trailing note of the great dog, but now
it seemed more ferocious and uncanny than ever. Shif'less Sol shuddered.
Tom Ross' face turned not pale, but actually white, through its many
layers of tan.

"Henry," said Shif'less Sol, "I never knowed you to miss at that range
afore."

The eyes of the two met again and each asked a question of the other.

"I think I was careless, Sol," said Henry. His voice shook a little.

"I hope so," said Shif'less Sol, whose mind was veering more and more
toward the belief of Tom Ross, "but I'd like pow'ful well to put a
bullet through that animal myself. Them awful wolf howls o' his hit on
my nerves, they do."

The chance of the shiftless one came presently. He, too, saw among the
bushes the long dark body, the massive pointed head and the glittering
eyes. He fired as quic