as he listened. The baying of the hounds again grew louder and
louder. Those wonderful noses of theirs were following his trail
without the least difficulty. In a panic of fear, Lightfoot
bounded away again. As he crossed an old road, the Green Forest
rang with the roar of a terrible gun. Something tore a strip of
bark from the trunk of a tree just above Lightfoot's back. It was
a bullet and it had just missed Lightfoot. It added to his terror
and this in turn added to his speed.

So Lightfoot ran and ran, and behind him the voices of the hounds
continued to ring through the Green Forest.



CHAPTER XXI: How Lightfoot Got Rid Of The Hounds

Poor Lightfoot! It seemed to him that there were no such things
as justice and fair play. Had it been just one hunter at a time
against whom he had to match his wits it would not have been so
bad. But there were many hunters with terrible guns looking for
him, and in dodging one he was likely at any time to meet
another. This in itself seemed terribly unfair and unjust.
But now, added to this was the greater unfairness of being trailed
by hounds.

Do you wonder that Lightfoot thought of men as utterly heartless?
You see, he could not know that those hounds had not been put on
his trail, but had left home to hunt for their own pleasure.
He could not know that it was against the law to hunt him with dogs.
But though none of those hunters looking for him were guilty