Frank Merriwell's Champions Part 42

CHAPTER XXVII-THE HUNT

"Hark away!"

The sound of baying hounds and the hunter's horn cut the crisp morning air.

"The dogs have struck a track!" gayly cried Frank, who was mounted on Firefoot, having chosen that horse, although warned that he was the most dangerous animal in the Springbrook stables. "Listen to that! Is it not music to stir the blood?"

The baying of the hounds grew more and more distinct, and surely it was sweet music to the ear of the enthusiastic hunter. Rising, falling, now loud and clear, now faint and low, the mellow notes came across the meadows.

"They're coming this way!" cried Diamond, excitedly, as his mount p.r.i.c.ked up its ears and pawed the ground, plainly longing to be off after the baying dogs. "Come, Frank!"

"s.h.i.+mminy Ghristmas!" gurgled Hans Dunnerwust, who was astride an old steed. "You don'd pelief dese hoss vos bound to run avay mit myseluf, do I?"

"I don't think ye need ter worry abaout that," grinned Ephraim Gallup.

"I make you feel petter ven you said dot," declared the Dutch boy. "I peen avraidt I might run avay mit dese hosses und throw heem off."

"It's a warm scent, fellows!" palpitated Bart Hodge, who was a-quiver with excitement. "Oh, this morning will be filled with glory!"

"I thought you fellows would enjoy it," said Kenneth St. Ives, who was with Frank and his friends, the hunters having split into two parties.

"I want you to enjoy all the time you spend at Springbrook."

"There's the horn again!" fluttered Diamond; "and there they come! It's a signal to us. Look! look! look!"

Out from a bit of scattering timber far across the meadows broke the hounds, the foremost running nose to the ground, the others following close, but often baying with uplifted muzzles. As the dogs had just struck the track, the hunters were close after them, and the bright colors of their clothing showed through the trees almost before the dogs appeared, rising and falling with the movements of their galloping horses.

"Harden is in the lead!" cried Kenneth St. Ives, "and Fenton is a close second. Look-look, fellows! The third one is my sister! Doesn't she ride beautifully! Oh, she is as good as the best of them! I'll wager a sawbuck she leads both Fenton and Harden before the chase is over, and she is sure to be in at the death."

"That's a habit I have myself," smiled Frank Merriwell; "and I shall make an attempt to be in at the death this morning."

"Firefoot will balk on you before you are through with him," declared Kenneth. "He's got speed and blood, but he is treacherous."

"I don't believe he will play any tricks on me," said Frank. "I do not believe he has been handled right. Your hostler, Wade, had a grudge against the horse, and Fenton didn't know how to treat him. But this is no time to talk of that. See-the dogs take that hedge! Hurrah! See Harden follow! What a glorious sight! Hurrah! hurrah!"

The boys could not repress their cheers. The horses they bestrode were dancing now, but the animals were held in check yet a little longer, and then, with a cry to the others, Frank gave Firefoot his head.

Down toward the hunters charged the second party, riding to join them.

They were seen, and Harden set the horn to his lips and blew a welcome.

Ta-ra, ta-ra, ta-ra-tar!

How the bugle note cuts the frosty air! It is enough to stir the blood in the veins of a sluggard.

The horses cannot be held in check. Oh, the glorious excitement of the mad ride-the delight of speed! Whip nor spur is not needed, and like birds they go across small washouts, down into a tiny ravine, and then up again with short, sharp jerks.

"Ou-oo! ou-oo! ou-oo!"

It is the baying of the hounds, the whole pack bursting into a grand swell of melody. Who would not rise early to hear such a morning chant!

The fox-there he goes! He is a red fellow, fine and large, good for many a mile. He seems to run with his legs stretched straight and his body almost touching the ground, while his brush is defiantly erect.

"This is indeed sport!" thought Frank Merriwell. "And, barring accidents, Firefoot will bring me in at the death."

"Hi! hi! hi!"

The fox came to a fence. Under it he went. A moment later the hounds reached the fence, Pirate in the lead. Over they went in a stream, as pretty a spectacle as one could ask to see.

Firefoot swept along like a meteor. Frank could have cut ahead of Harden, but he knew better than to do such a thing. He fell behind the bugler, but ahead of Fenton. The others of his party were farther back.

The fence was reached, and Harden cleared it beautifully, without seeking for an easy spot. Frank followed, and Firefoot sailed over the obstruction like a bird.

"Good boy!" laughed Merry. "You're all right! I'd like to own you!"

A strong feeling of affection for the horse sprang up in his breast. He touched Firefoot's neck with a caressing hand.

Now came some scrub timber, and through it darted the fox, with the hounds plunging at its heels. Harden did not swerve, but held straight on the track. Frank followed.

Limbs were dodged, bushes slapped him in the face, and vines tried to drag him from the saddle; but he did not draw rein. Straight on he kept, and soon the small timber was behind.

A road was reached and crossed. Ahead was a field that sloped gradually, presenting a full view of the chase. Still the fox was running speedily, holding its own with the dogs.

"Ou-oo! ou-oo! ou-oo!"

Again and again the entire pack gave tongue. An old farmer on his way to market, stopped his cart on the road, stood up, waved his hat about his head, and cheered like a boy.

Once Frank looked back.

"Jove!" he exclaimed.

Almost neck and neck, Steve Fenton and Iva St. Ives were following him.

It was plain that the girl was riding with as much reckless abandon as the best of them. It was not an easy thing for her dark-faced cousin to hold his own with her.

"She is a queen!" muttered Frank, as he once more gave his attention to the chase. "I don't wonder that Harden is stuck on her. And he appears like a fine fellow. I hope he wins her."

The fox had darted under another fence, and again the dogs were streaming over. Harden followed close, seeking no favors. His horse cleared the fence, and onward he went.

"Firefoot, old boy," laughed Frank, "you can follow him anywhere he goes."

Straight at the fence he charged. Firefoot lifted to the couch, settling on his haunches, then going up into the air.

Just then, from some unknown point, a shot rang out, and the black horse pitched forward. Its forward feet struck the rail, and Frank was flung headlong.

Firefoot came down with a crash, and lay still, a bullet in his brain!

And just beyond the fallen horse Frank was curled in a heap upon the hard ground!

But Frank did not lie thus a great while. As he was getting upon his feet, rubbing his arm and shoulder, he saw Iva St. Ives and Stephen Fenton come over the fence. And Fenton jumped his horse almost in the track of the boy who had been in advance, although he must have seen that an accident of some sort had happened.