“Oh, no,” said Joe, “he isn’t lazy; but he never gets in a hurry until the time comes.”
The young men tried to tease Joe about Jonah, but the lad only smiled, and Jonah gradually worked away from the horses. It was noticed that he did not hunt as closely as the other dogs, nor did he nose the ground as carefully. He swept the field in ever-widening circles, going in an easy gallop, that was the perfection of grace, and energy, and strength. Presently Harbert cried out:
“Looky yonder, Marse Joe! Looky yonder at Jonah!”
All eyes were turned in the direction that Harbert pointed. The dog was hunting where the brown sedge was higher than his head, and he had evidently discovered something, for he would leap into the air, look around, and drop back into the sedge, only to go through the same performance with increasing energy.
“Why don’t he give a yelp or two and call the other dogs to help him?” exclaimed one of the young men.
“He’s no tattler,” said Joe, “and he doesn’t need any help. That fox has either just got up or he isn’t twenty yards away. Just wait!”
The next moment Jonah gave tongue with thrilling energy, repeated the challenge twice, and was off, topping the fence like a bird. The effect on the other dogs was magical; they rushed to the cry, caught up the red-hot drag, scrambled over the fence the best they could, and went away, followed by a cheer from Harbert that shook the dew from the leaves. The young men were off, too, and Joe had all he could do to hold his horse, which was in the habit of running with the hounds. The sound of the hunt grew fainter as the dogs ran across a stretch of meadow-land and through a skirt of woods to the open country beyond; and Joe and Miss Carter, accompanied by Harbert, proceeded leisurely to the brow of a hill near by.
“If that is Old Sandy,” said Joe, “he will come across the Bermuda field yonder, turn to the left, and pass us not very far from that dead pine.” Joe was very proud of his knowledge.
“Why, we shall see the best of the hunt!” cried Miss Carter, enthusiastically.
They sat on their horses and listened. Sometimes the hounds seemed to be coming nearer, and then they would veer off. Finally, their musical voices melted away in the distance. Joe kept his eyes on the Bermuda field, and so did Harbert, while Miss Carter tapped her horse’s mane gently with her riding-whip, and seemed to be enjoying the scene. They waited a long time, and Joe was beginning to grow disheartened, when Harbert suddenly exclaimed: