“All ready now,” said Archie.  “Keep a good look-out, Frank, and let the hound go the instant the fox comes out.  You know, Lightfoot is young yet, and it won’t do to give the game too long a start.”

“All right,” answered Frank.

And he tightened his grasp on the strong, impatient animal, which struggled desperately to free himself, while George and Harry began the work of “poking out the fox.”  They thrust their poles into the holes they had cut in the roots of the stump, and the next moment out popped the fox, and started toward the woods like a streak of light.

The meadow was about a mile and a half square, and was laid off in “dead furrows”—­deep ditches, which are dug, about four rods apart, to drain off the water.  The fox took to the bank of one of these furrows, and followed it at a rate of speed which the boys had never seen equaled.

The moment Lightfoot discovered him, he raised himself on his hind-legs, and struggled and fought furiously.  But Frank would not release him in that position, for fear the hound would “throw” himself; and he commenced striking him on the head, to compel him, if possible, to place his fore-feet on the ground, but all to no purpose.

During the struggle, short as it was, the fox had gained nearly thirty rods.  Archie was not slow to notice this, and he shouted to his cousin,

“Let him go! let him go!  The fox has too long a start already.”

Frank accordingly released the hound, which made an enormous bound, and, as Frank had expected, he landed, all in a heap, in one of the dead furrows, and, before he could recover himself, the fox had gained two or three rods more.  But when the hound was fairly started, his speed was astonishing.  He settled down nobly to his work, and moved over the ground as lightly as if he had been furnished with wings.

Had he been a well-trained dog, the boys would have felt no concern whatever as to the issue of the race; but, as it was, they looked upon the escape of the fox as a very probable thing.  The fox was still following the dead furrow, and Lightfoot, instead of pursuing directly after him, as he ought to have done, took to another furrow which ran parallel to the one the fox was following, and about four rods from it.

The fox had a good start, but the enormous bounds of the greyhound rapidly lessened the distance between them; he gained at every step, and finally overtook him, and the two animals were running side by side, and only four rods apart.

Suddenly the cunning fox turned, and started off exactly at right angles with the course he had been following.  The gray hound, of course, had not been expecting this, and he made a dozen of his long bounds before he could turn himself.  During this time the fox gained several rods.

As before, the hound pursued a course parallel with that of the fox, instead of following directly after him.