police-office, to tell them to look out for the boy. But no Tom
was heard of. As for his having gone over those great fells to
Vendale, they no more dreamed of that than of his having gone to
the moon.

So Mr. Grimes came up to Harthover next day with a very sour face;
but when he got there, Sir John was over the hills and far away;
and Mr. Grimes had to sit in the outer servants' hall all day, and
drink strong ale to wash away his sorrows; and they were washed
away long before Sir John came back.

For good Sir John had slept very badly that night; and he said to
his lady, "My dear, the boy must have got over into the grouse-
moors, and lost himself; and he lies very heavily on my conscience,
poor little lad. But I know what I will do."

So, at five the next morning up he got, and into his bath, and into
his shooting-jacket and gaiters, and into the stableyard, like a
fine old English gentleman, with a face as red as a rose, and a
hand as hard as a table, and a back as broad as a bullock's; and
bade them bring his shooting pony, and the keeper to come on his
pony, and the huntsman, and the first whip, and the second whip,
and the under-keeper with the bloodhound in a leash--a great dog as
tall as a calf, of the colour of a gravel-walk, with mahogany ears
and nose, and a throat like a church-bell. They took him up to the
place where Tom had gone into the wood; and there the hound lifted
up his mighty voice, and told them all he knew.

Then he took them to the place where Tom had climbed the wall; and
they shoved it down, and all got through.