And now again he came back:  “You see, this stream runs so nigh the way they wanted to go that there’s no tellin’ how fur they waded down it or whether they was two, three, or four of ’em rej’ined together.  They’re shore to ‘a’ been all together when they left it, but where that was hell only knows.  Come on.”

We plunged across after him and followed down the farther bank, and at the point where he had turned back he put the hounds on again.  “How do you know there were more than one here?” I asked.

“Because, if noth’n’ else, this trail at first was a fool’s trail and now it’s as smart as cats a-fight’n’—­look ’em out, Dandy!  Every time the rascals struck a swimmin’-hole they swum it, the men sort o’ tote’n’ the women, I reckon—­ah, my Charmer!  Yes, my sweet lady! take ’em! take ’em!”

As the stream emerged into an old field—­“Sun’s pow’ful hot for you-all!” Hardy added.  “Ain’t see’ such a day this time o’ year fo’ a coon’s age.  Hosses feel’n’ it.  Hard to say which is hottest, sun or brush.”

We had skirted the branch a full mile, beating its margin thoroughly, and were in deep woods again, when all at once Charmer let out a glad peal.  Her mate echoed it and with the stream at their back they were off and away in full cry.  The trail was broad and strong and with rare breaks continued so for an hour.  Often the dogs made us trot; in open grounds we galloped.  Once, in a thickety wet tract where the still air was suffocating and a sluggish runlet meandered widely, Hardy was forced, after long hinderance, to drop the trail and recover it on a rising ground beyond.

There once more we were making good speed when we burst into an open grove where about a small, unpainted frame church a saddle-horse was tied under every swinging limb.  Before the church a gang of boys had sprung up from their whittling to be our gleeful spectators.  Hardy waved them off with the assurance that we wanted neither their help nor company, and though the trail took us at slackened speed around two sides of the building we passed and were gone while the worshippers were in the first stanza of a hymn started to keep them on their benches.

Noon, afternoon; we made no pause.  “It’s ketch ’em before night,” said Hardy as we bent low under beech boughs, “or not till noon to-morrow.”

About mid-afternoon one of the court-house boys, who had been talking softly with the other, turned back with a bare good-by.  His friend explained: 

“Got to be at his desk early in the morning.  But I’m with you till you run ’em down.”

Happy for me that he was mistaken.  Two hours more were hardly gone when, “My Prince is sick!” he cried, drew in, and under a smoke of his own curses began wildly to unsaddle.  Hardy rode on.

“You’ll have to get another mount,” I said.

“Another hell!  I wouldn’t leave this horse sick in strange hands for a thousand dollars!” Suddenly he struck an imploring key:  “Look here!  I’ll give you fifty dollars cash to stay with me till I get him out o’ this!”