"There are the hares ahead---I see two of them!" bellowed Dan
Dalzell, lustily.
A chorus from the hounds responded an instant later. Yes; they
had come in sight of the chase. But the rearmost hares were still
a good half mile away. Then the hares disappeared into a forest,
leaving only the paper trail as evidence of their presence.
"Brook ahead!" sang out Captain Dick. "Go easily and save some
of your wind for jumping."
In a minute more they came to it. Most of the hounds knew when
to start on the faster run that must precede the running jump.
Splash! splash.
Splash! spla-a-ash!
Four of the freshmen floundered in the knee-deep water. Well
doused, they must none the less dash out of the cold water and
continue on the chase.
"Keep a-moving, and you'll soon be dry and warm," Dick called
backward over his shoulder. The four who had been badly wet ran
heavily now, yet afraid of ridicule if they fell out. They were
having their first taste of High School sports, which made no
allowance for quitters.
Twenty minutes later a low hurrah went up from the freshmen hounds.
Dawson, of the hares, found the pace too swift for him. With
a slight pain in his side he lagged so that one of the hounds
put on an extra spurt, then wound his arms around the sophomore.
"Fair capture!" bawled one of the judges, and Dawson, dropping
out, sat down until he could get his wind back.
Within the next twenty minutes four more of the hares fell into
the maws of the hounds.
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