out, sat down until he could get his wind back.

Within the next twenty minutes four more of the hares fell into
the maws of the hounds.

Five captures! That was fine. Only two more needed, and less
than two miles to cover.

The hares were, at this time, again out of sight in the woods
ahead. But Captain Dick, having saved his wind well, now put
on a slightly better spurt and jogged ahead, full of the purpose
of capturing his second hare. One of the "catches" was already
recorded to his credit.

"There's one of the hares," Dick flashed to himself, as he caught
an indistinct glimpse of a sweater and a moving pair of legs ahead.
"He seems to be losing his wind, too---that fellow."

In a minute more Dick gave another gasp of discovery.

"It's Fred Ripley. I suppose it will be bitter medicine for him,
if _I_ make the catch," thought the young captain of the hounds.

Though he was too manly, too good a sportsman to allow malice
to creep in, Prescott certainly did do his best to overtake the
lagging Fred.

Gradually, the young captain left the hares behind. But Badger,
who was an easy runner, forged ahead so as to keep the leading
hound in full sight.