guessed it must be Reddy.

So many fences they leaped, and so many stone walls! Now they were
near the Brook, and yes, he could see the red coats, very bright and
plain now.

And then he spied Reddy. His coat wasn't as gay as those the men wore.
Theirs were bright like cherries, and his was the color of chestnuts.
It seemed such a shame to want his poor little coat when the men had
such nice ones themselves.

"Cracky!" he exclaimed. One of the "ole hunters" had fallen in the
Brook. And Marmaduke hoped that red coat would get soaked and soaked
and run like the stockings Mother had bought from the pedlar. And he
hoped that "ole hunter" would get wet to the skin, and shiver and
shiver, and have to call in the doctor who'd prescribe the very worst
medicine there was in the world. It would serve that "ole hunter"
right if he'd almost die. But Marmaduke hoped the poor horse wouldn't
break his leg. It wasn't the horses' fault they were chasing Reddy.

Now the hunters were lost in Jake Miller's Woods. All he could see
were patches of red, here and there, in the bushes, but he heard the
deep voices of the dogs, all the time, calling and calling.

Then all-of-a-sudden something happened. And Marmaduke liked
all-of-a-sudden things to happen--they were so exciting.

A little streak of fur, with tail flying behind like a long pretty hat
brush, galloped across the Apgar field, then the very field where
Marmaduke sat, perched on the fence.