Charmer, hi!"

Between shouts: "Is yo' nag gwine to hold out?"

"He's got to or perish," I laughed.

In time we found ourselves under a vast roof of towering pines. The
high green grass beneath them had been burned over within a year. The
declining sun gilded both the grass and the lower sides of the soaring
boughs. Even Hardy glanced back exaltedly to bid me mark the beauty of
the scene. But I dared not. The dogs were going more swiftly than
ever, and there was a ticklish chance of one's horse breaking a leg in
one of the many holes left by burnt-out pine roots. The main risk,
moreover, was not to Hardy's trained hunter but to my worn-out livery
"nag."

"We've started 'em, all four, on the run," he called, "but if we don't
tree 'em befo' they make the river we'll lose 'em after all."

The land began a steady descent. Soon once more we were in underbrush
and presently came square against a staked-and-ridered worm fence
around a "deadening" dense with tall corn. Charmer and Dandy had
climbed directly over it, scampered through the corn, and were waking
every echo in a swamp beyond. The younger pair, still yoked, stood
under the fence, yelping for Hardy's aid. He sprang down and unyoked
them and over they scrambled and were gone, ringing like fire-bells.
Outside the fence, both right and left, the ground was miry, yet for us
it was best to struggle round through the bushy slough; which we had
barely done when with sudden curses Hardy spurred forward. The younger
dogs were off on a separate chase of their own. For at the river-bank