Presently, however, the track ended in a sort of winding path, which seemed to lead into thicker and thicker tangle. Hal stopped, perplexed, and listened, but could hear no sound. Next minute, however, Blazer's bark sounded out again, short and sharp; once, twice, thrice. Hal set forward instantly, with increased vigour, and after following the windings of the path for a short distance, he was able to distinguish voices, whilst every now and then Blazer gave a sharp bark, as if to call him on.
All on a sudden, an idea struck Hal, and resting on his crutches to get breath, he called Blazer's name with all his might.
The plan succeeded. Blazer heard, and gave an answering bark. In a few seconds, Hal heard the crackling of the dry leaves under his paws; then out he rushed along the path. They were not far off, and Hal was going straight for them. He hurried on after the dog.
"Where are you, grandfather?" called he, when he got near enough to distinguish the Squire's voice.
"Here!" was the reply.
And at the same instant, Hal spied Maggie's pink apron through the bushes.
Hal paused a second; then pushing one crutch in among the twigs, he made his way to where the others were.
The Squire was bending over something on the ground, Maggie kneeling by his side. "He's opening his eyes!" cried she, as Hal came up.
And there, to his astonishment, half-raised upon the turf mound at the foot of a hazel clump, lay the long-lost runaway, Bill the Kicker.
Bill drew a long breath and rolled his eyes round; then the lids dropped to again.