Half-a-mile down, they came on to the country road, and here suddenly the scent vanished. High or low they could not find it. It neither crossed the road, nor went up the road, nor went down the road. They sniffed round in circles, but all to no good—not a scrap of paper was anywhere within twenty yards, except at the spot where they had struck the road.
They had gone, perhaps, half a mile with no sign yet of the scent, and were beginning to make up their minds that, after all, they should have turned up the road instead of down, when a horseman, followed by a groom, turned a corner of the road in front of them and came to meet them.
“Hurrah!” cried Dick, “here’s a chap we can ask.”
The “chap” in question was evidently somewhat perplexed by the apparition of these three bareheaded, bare-legged, dust-stained youngsters, and reined up his horse as they trotted up.
“I say,” cried Dick, ten yards off, “have you seen the Harriers go by, please?—Whew!”
This last exclamation was caused by the sudden and alarming discovery that the “chap” thus unceremoniously addressed was no other than one of the two magistrates before whom, not three days ago, Tom White had stood on his trial in the presence of the “Firm.”
“What Harriers, my man?” asked the gentleman.
“Oh, if you please, the Templeton Harriers, sir. It’s a paper-chase, you know.”
“Oh, you’re Templeton boys, are you? Why, I was a Templetonian myself at your age,” said the delighted old boy. “No; no Harriers have gone this way. You must have lost the scent.”
“We lost it half a mile ago. If you’re going that way, we can show you where,” said Dick.