e darkest corner.

"Hand me your gun, Frank," said he; "I'll shoot him."

"I wouldn't shoot him," said Frank. "It is a good time to try
Lightfoot's speed. Let's get the fox out, and give him a fair start,
and if he gets away from the hound, he is entitled to his life."

The boys readily agreed to this proposal--not out of any desire to
give the fox a chance for his liberty, but in order to witness a fair
trial of the grayhound's speed, and to enjoy the excitement of the
race.

George and Harry provided themselves with long poles, with which to
"poke" the fox out of his refuge. Brave and Sport were unceremoniously
conducted away from the tree, and ordered to "lie down;" and Frank
took hold of the grayhound, intending to restrain him until the fox
could get a fair start.

"All ready now," said Archie. "Keep a good look-out, Frank, and let
the hound go the instant the fox comes out. You know, Lightfoot is
young yet, and it won't do to give the game too long a start."

"All right," answered Frank.

And he tightened his grasp on the strong, impatient animal, which
struggled desperately to free himself, while George and Harry began
the work of "poking out the fox." They thrust their poles into the
holes they had cut in the roots of the stump, and the next moment out
popped the fox, and started toward the woods like a streak of light.

The meadow was about a mile and a half square, and was laid off in
"dead furrows"--deep ditches, which are dug, about four rods apart, to
drain off the water. The fox took to the bank of one of these furrows,
and followed it at a rate of speed which the boys had never seen
equaled.

The moment Lightfoot discovered him, he raised himself on his
hind-legs, and struggled and fought furiously. But Frank would not
release him in that position, for fear the hound would "throw"
himself; and he commenced striking him on the head, to compel him, if
possible, to place his fore-feet on the ground, but all to no purpose.

During the struggle, short as it was, the fox had gained nearly thirty
rods. Archie was not slow to notice this, and he shouted to his
cousin,

"Let him go! let him go! The fox has too long a start already."

Frank accordingly released the hound, which made an enormous bound,
and, as Frank had expected, he landed, all in a heap, in one of the
dead furrows, and, before he could recover himself, the fox had
gained two or three rods more. But when the hound was fairly started,