“I told you, Carter. He’s got the scent. Come on at my heels. Ginger’ll trail him.”
“By Jove, I believe you are right, Henley,” Nick cried, following.
“I know I’m right. He’s some dog, sir, some dog.”
“Some dog, Henley, no mistake.”
“Can you stick close?”
“Bet you!” said Nick, as both plunged on after the hound. “You can’t go too fast for me.”
“Sing out if I do.”
“I’ll hang on, all right. Want me to carry your gun?”
“Not much!” growled Henley. “I’m used to this ’ere business.”
“Gordon evidently went round the pond, instead of back to the crossroad.”