"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.