Old Tom 



powerful spring, and he swerved only slightly for 

 the trees. This latter, I saw at once, made the dan 

 ger for me. It became a matter of saving my legs, 

 and dodging branches. The imperative need of this 

 came to me with convincing force. I dodged a 

 branch on one tree, only to be caught square in the 

 middle by a snag on another. Crack! If the snag 

 had not broken, Satan would have gone on riderless, 

 and I would have been left hanging, a pathetic and 

 drooping monition to the risks of the hunt. I kept 

 ducking my head, now and then falling flat over the 

 pommel to avoid a limb that would have brushed me 

 off, and hugging the flanks of my horse with my 

 knees. Soon I was at Wallace s heels, and had Jones 

 in sight. Now and then glimpses of Frank s white 

 horse gleamed through the trees. 



We began to circle toward the south, to go up and 

 down shallow hollows, to find the pines thinning out; 

 then we shot out of the forest into the scrubby oak. 

 Riding through this brush was the crudest kind of 

 work, but Satan kept on close to the sorrel. The 

 hollows began to get deeper, and the ridges between 

 them narrower. No longer could we keep a straight 

 course. 



On the crest of one of the ridges we found Jones 

 awaiting us. Jude, Tige and Don lay panting at his 

 feet. Plainly the Colonel appeared vexed. 



215 



