Archie, who had lived in the city during the summer, was “completely used up,” as he expressed it; and his cousin was weary and footsore; and it seemed as though neither of them had sufficient strength left to take another step.

They kept on, hour after hour, however, without once stopping to rest; and, about three o’clock in the afternoon, they climbed over the fence that inclosed Uncle Mike’s pasture, and came in sight of the cottage.

George and Harry were sitting on the piazza, and, as soon as they came within speaking distance, the latter held up the fox, exclaiming,

“We were lucky, for once in our lives.”

“If we had been five minutes later, we should have lost him,” said George, as Frank and his cousin came up to where the brothers were sitting.  “We reached the ridge just in the ‘nick of time,’ The fox was just passing, and Harry brought him down by a chance shot.  Here, Frank,” he continued, “you take the fox; we have no use for him.”

Frank thanked him; and the boys then went into the house, and, after dinner, the brothers started for home.

Frank and his cousin went into the study, and the former selected his favorite book from his library, and settled himself in an easy-chair before the fire; while Archie stretched himself on the bed, and was fast asleep in a moment.

And here, reader, we will leave them reposing after their long run; but we hope soon to introduce them again in works entitled, “FRANK IN THE WOODS,” and “FRANK ON THE PRAIRIE.”

THE END.