King Harry put his old muzzle to the ground, but before he did so, he said, “Of course, I’ll follow mute.”
I nodded my head, and we started off up the road, going not very fast, as King Harry was not an expert trailer. He nosed to and fro, and Cannie said impatiently, “I tell ye, man, he crossed the turnip field.”
“I’m not going to be ‘lifted,’” said King Harry stubbornly. “You never indicate to a hound the direction in which his quarry has gone. I’m doing this, anyway. Kindly hold your tongue.”
The abashed Cannie slunk behind me, and we went up across the turnip field in King Harry’s good time, down to the hollow where the long meadow grass grew, across it through the pinewood belonging to us, and into the pasture belonging to Mr. Bonstone.
The sweet wild grass was soft to our paws, and we skipped over the many rocks sticking their ribs up through the ground. We cantered easily along, and King Harry took us to a path leading to the young orchard at Green Hill, then to an asphalt walk that ran from the house down to the electric car track in the road. This walk was for the convenience of the farm hands when they wanted to take the car to the city. The men would start out from their rooms over the stables with nicely blacked shoes, and Mrs. Bonstone had suggested that this walk be made, so they could arrive in the city with smart looking feet.
Well, King Harry soon had us in the vicinity of the stables. This meant that all the Bonstone tribe of dogs had to have a muzzle in the affair, though we would just as soon have worked the thing alone.
Sir Walter Scott was the first to challenge us. “Woo, woo,” we heard in his deep growl, as he lay crouched behind an apple tree.
As quick as a flash, his tone changed. Our scent had been borne on the night air. He ran to meet us, nosing hurriedly, to find out what this late visit meant.
“Wow, wow,” came from the stables in Yeggie’s sharp voice, and without waiting for Joe to wake and let him out, he took a flying leap through the open window to the roof of the harness-room, and came limping to greet us.
“Shut up,” I said irritably. “Why don’t you wait and think, before you bark?”