“You know, Sam,” said the girl, thoughtfully, “that he might have poled up stream a way, put the chest ashore, and then let the punt drift down.”
“Reckon that’s so,” grunted the foreman.
He said no more, and neither did Frances. But the brief dialogue gave the girl food for thought, and her mind was quite full of the idea when the crowd from the Edwards ranch came into view.
The boys were armed with light rifles or shotguns, and even some of the girls were armed, as well as Mrs. Edwards herself.
But Sue Latrop had never fired a gun in her life, and she professed to be not much interested in this hunt.
“Oh, I’ve fox-hunted several times. That is real sport! But we don’t shoot foxes. The dogs kill them–if there re’lly is a fox.”
“Humph!” asked one of the local boys, with wonder, “what do the dogs follow, if there’s no fox? What scent do they trail, I mean?”
“Oh,” said Sue, “a man rides ahead dragging an aniseed bag. Some dogs are trained to follow that scent and nothing else. It’s very exciting, I assure you.”
“Well! what do you know about that?” gasped the questioner.
“Say! was this around Boston?” asked Pratt, his eyes twinkling.