The first runner was the diminutive Isaac Rothstein, the second, the tall, long-limbed Hoke Butler, and the third Mike Murphy.
“There is only one condition,” said young Burton, when everything was ready; “you must not make any use of the lake. Zip can track you only to the edge.”
“The lake is the only water shut out?” remarked Hoke Butler inquiringly. The guest hesitated a moment, suspecting some intended trick by the questioner.
“That is all.”
“How about the Sheepscot River?” asked Mike.
“If an hour’s start will enable you to reach that stream ahead of Zip, you win.”
Scout Master Hall turned to Isaac, who was standing in the middle of the group on the porch. The bright-eyed youth nodded.
Burton spoke to the hound which, knowing what was expected of him, came forward and sniffed around the Boy Scout’s feet and ankles. He did this for only two or three seconds, when he backed off and took his place beside his master.
“That means he is ready if you are.”
“I am to have an hour’s start?”