“Sneak,” said Boone, “when you are done here, come to Mr. Glenn’s house.”
“I will, as soon as I go to my muskrat trap out at the lake and get my rifle.”
“Be in a hurry,” said Boone; and turning towards the chase, he uttered a “Ya-ho!” and instantly the hounds were hushed.
“Dod!” exclaimed Sneak, staring a moment at Boone, while his large eyes seemed to increase in size, and then rolling up his sleeves, he delved away with extraordinary dispatch.
In a very short space of time, Ringwood and Jowler rushed from the thicket, and leaping up against the breast of their old master, evinced a positive happiness in once more beholding him. They were soon followed by Glenn, who dashed briskly through the thicket to see who it was that caused his hounds to abandon him so unceremoniously. No sooner did he discover his aged friend than he ran forward and grasped his hand.
“I thought not of you, and yet I could think of no one else who might thus entice my noble hounds away. Return with me, and we will have the fox in a few minutes—he is now nearly exhausted,” said Glenn.
“Molest him not,” said Boone. “Did you not observe how reluctantly the hounds chased him?”
“I did; what was the cause of it?” asked Glenn.
“The breeze is tainted with the scent of Indians!” whispered Boone.
“Again thou art my preserver!” said Glenn, in a low tone.