Suddenly a loud howl blended with Sport’s baying, and the hounds seemed to turn and sweep down the valley.

“The fox has left the ridge, boys,” said Frank.

“Then we’re dished again,” exclaimed Archie.

“Perhaps not,” continued Frank.  “He will have to go across the meadow, and will run the risk of being caught by Lightfoot.  We must try and cut him off.”

And he led the way down the ridge, in the direction the chase was tending.

In a few moments the hounds broke out into a continuous cry, and, when the boys emerged from the woods, they saw them standing at the foot of a tall stump, which stood near the middle of the meadow.

Brave immediately ran to join them, and Harry exclaimed,

“I’d like to know what those dogs are doing there?”

“Why, they’ve got the fox treed,” said Frank.

“A fox treed!” repeated Harry, with a laugh, “Whoever heard of such a thing?”

“I have often read,” answered Frank, “that when a fox is hard pressed, and finds himself unable to escape, he will take advantage of any place of concealment he can find.”

While this conversation was going on, the boys had been running toward the stump, and, when they reached it, they found Brave with his head buried in a hole near the ground, now and then giving his tail a jerk, but otherwise remaining as motionless as a statue.

“What do you think now of the possibility of seeing a fox?” inquired Frank, turning to Harry.

“I don’t believe it yet,” said the latter.

“Then how is it that the dogs are here?”

“The fox may have run down here and doubled on his trail, and thus thrown the dogs off the scent.”

“He didn’t have time to do that,” said Archie, who had divested himself of his coat, and stood with his ax, ready to cut down the stump.  “He’s in here, I’m certain.  See how Brave acts.”

“It will not take long to find out,” said George, who was a good deal of his brother’s opinion that the fox was not in the tree.

And he and Archie set to work, with the intention of cutting it down.  But it was found to be hollow; and, after taking out a few chips, Archie stooped down to take a survey of the interior, and spied the fox crouched in the darkest corner.

“Hand me your gun, Frank,” said he; “I’ll shoot him.”

“I wouldn’t shoot him,” said Frank.  “It is a good time to try Lightfoot’s speed.  Let’s get the fox out, and give him a fair start, and if he gets away from the hound, he is entitled to his life.”

The boys readily agreed to this proposal—­not out of any desire to give the fox a chance for his liberty, but in order to witness a fair trial of the grayhound’s speed, and to enjoy the excitement of the race.

George and Harry provided themselves with long poles, with which to “poke” the fox out of his refuge.  Brave and Sport were unceremoniously conducted away from the tree, and ordered to “lie down;” and Frank took hold of the grayhound, intending to restrain him until the fox could get a fair start.