"Chance is a fine thing. Wait till we're out of this hole. Wish we'd the chance to run now, but if we stir they'll see us."
At this point a shrill whistle rang through the woods and startled them, and before they had recovered from their surprise, the deep bay of a hound was heard approaching from the distance.
"Phew----" The boys looked at each other, and for a moment their faces blanched, as in an undertone these words simultaneously escaped from their lips.
"Old Click's dog----"
"We're up a tree now, Jack, in more than one sense." And they were, for they both knew the reputation of this wonderful hound. He could track a poacher for miles, and having once got the scent, he rarely let it go till he had run his victim down. Nearer and nearer came that deep bay, and soon the trampling of the shrubs and undergrowth gave notice of its arrival.
"Here, Charlie. Good dog.--Seek 'em.--Seek 'em," cried its master.
Instantly the hound began sniffing round about the embers of the fire, till picking up the newly-placed scent, it suddenly gave vent to a peculiar howl, and then dashed directly towards the stream. Here it paused abruptly, and began sniffing the air, then it ran back to the fire, picked up the scent again, and stopped once more at the edge of the stream.
"They've crossed the water, that's certain," said the keeper.
The boys had watched this with great consternation. They had given up all hope of escape, but when they saw this fine dog twice baffled by the stream, hope returned in an overflowing measure.
"There is just a chance," whispered Jack.