In a few moments they were again running side by side, but this time further apart than before.  Again and again the fox turned, each time nearing the woods, and gaining considerably; and finally, reaching the end of the meadow, he cleared the fence at a bound, and disappeared in the bushes.

“Now, that’s provoking!” exclaimed Archie.

“Never mind,” answered Frank.  “I don’t think the fox can go much further.  He must be pretty well tired out, judging by the way he ran.  Here, Sport!” he continued, “hunt ’em up!”

Sport was off like a shot, and the boys followed after as fast as their legs could carry them.

When they reached the woods, they found Lightfoot beating about in the bushes, as if he expected to find the fox concealed among them.  Sport was standing over the trail of the fox, as motionless as if he had been turned into stone.

“Hunt ’em up!” shouted Frank, again—­“hunt ’em up.”

The hound uttered a loud bark, and instantly set off on the trail, and Lightfoot, as before, followed close at his heels.

“Now,” exclaimed Frank, “we must change our tactics.”

“Yes,” said Harry.  “A little further on, the ridge branches off, and there is no knowing which one the fox will follow.  Come, George, we will go this way.”

And he turned and ran down into the meadow again.

“Run like blazes, now!” shouted Frank.

And, suiting the action to the word, he turned off in the opposite direction, and led the way through the woods at a rate which made Archie wonder.  They ran along in “Indian file”—­Brave bringing up the rear—­for almost two miles, through the thickest part of the woods, when they again found themselves on the ridge.  After ascertaining that the fox had not yet passed, they took their stations.

“I would really like to know which way that fox went,” said Archie, panting hard after his long run.

“I am almost certain that he took to the other ridge,” answered Frank.  “I think we should have heard the hound before this time, if he had turned this way.”

They remained in their places of concealment for almost an hour, without hearing any sounds of the chase, and Frank said,

“We might as well start for home.”

“Dished again, are we?” said Archie, in a deprecating tone.  “That’s too bad!  Well,” he continued, “we can’t always be the fortunate ones, but I wish I could have had the pleasure of shooting that fox.  But which way do we go to get home?”

“We must go exactly south,” said Frank.

“Which way is that?”

“I will soon tell you.”

And Frank drew a small compass from his pocket, and, in a moment, continued,

“This is the way.  Come on!”

And he turned his face, as Archie thought, directly from home, and struck boldly out.  Their long run had taxed their endurance to the utmost.  If they had “been in practice,” they would have looked upon it as merely a “little tramp;” for, during the previous winter, they had often followed a fox all day without experiencing any serious inconvenience; but, as this was the first exercise of the kind they had had for almost a year, they felt the effects of it pretty severely.