"Down by the brook, while we were playing tag."
"Indeed! Well, you want to be more careful in the future," was Captain Putnam's advice, and then he left Baxter. If he suspected anything he did not let on. To a certain extent he believed in letting boys fight out their own battles.
The Rover boys had come to Putnam Hall in the fall, and now summer sports were cast aside among the pupils, and football and hare and hounds became the rage.
As we know, Sam was an excellent runner, and hare and hounds just suited him.
"We must ask the captain to let us take a long trip next Saturday afternoon," he said; and the boys went to the owner of Putnam Hall in a body and obtained permission.
It was decided that Sam and Fred should be the hares, while Larry Colby was to be leading hound. As Frank Harrington had a trumpet he was made whipper-in. Captain Putnam supplied the boys with a package of old copying books, and these were cut up into small bits and stuffed into two pillow cases loaned by Mrs. Green.
The start was made on a clear but frosty afternoon. The hares stood on the parade ground, with the hounds, to the number of thirty, behind them. George Strong had consented to start them off. The hares were to be given three minutes start of the little scholars and five minutes start of the big boys.
"All ready?" asked the second assistant of Putnam Hall, as he took out his watch.
"All ready," answered Sam and Fred.
"Then go!" And away went the two boys straight for the cornfield, dropping bits of paper as they sped along. They leaped the fence in the rear, crossed the brook, and then started along a path leading through the woods beyond.
"We mustn't dream of letting them catch us," remarked Sam, as he ran on, with Fred directly behind him. "I wonder where this path leads to?"
"The top of the mountain, so Mr. Strong told me. He said there was another path coming down to the westward."
On and on they went along the path until they came to a narrow mountain road. Here they met a farmer carting a number of logs in his wagon, and stopped him to ask a few questions.
"Yes, that road will take you right up to the top," he said. "But you want to be careful and not make a wrong turn, or you may get lost."
"I'm not afraid of being lost," said Fred with a light laugh; and on they sped again, as rapidly as ever, for Fred was as good a runner as Sam, and the pair worked very well together.
At the top of the first rise of ground they came to a spot that was somewhat bare, and here they halted to look back.
"There are the small fellows!" cried Sam, pointing with his finger. "And the big ones are not far behind."
"They are speeding along in good shape," was Fred's comment. "Come on, before they spot us!" And they hurried up the next hill.
Here they encountered a number of rocks, and were brought to a halt several times to determine which was the best path to pursue.
"By jinks! the farmer was right--we are getting lost!" said Sam presently.
"Where is the path?"
"I think it is to the right."
"And I think it is to the left."
At this both lads looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
"It can't be in both directions, Fred."
"That's true, and I am sure I am right."
"All right, we'll try it," and they did, but it was a good ten minutes before the path came into view again, and meanwhile the first of the hounds drew dangerously close.
But the game was by no means over, as we shall see.
CHAPTER XIII
WHAT THE GAME OF HARE AND HOUND LED TO
"What a glorious view!"
It was Sam who uttered the words. The top of the mountain had been reached at last, and the boys were feasting their eyes on the grand panorama spread on all sides.
"How beautiful the lake looks!" said Fred.
"And how far one can see!"
"It's a pity we didn't bring a pair of glasses with us, Fred.
But, say, I'm hungry."
"So am I. Let us eat that lunch at once and then start on the return."
Each had brought a sandwich along, and these were soon consumed and washed down with a drink of cold water from a spring not far away. Then on they went, over the top of the mountain, and along a path which they thought would bring them around its western base. It was now four o'clock, leaving them two hours in which to get back to Putnam Hall.
About a third of the distance down the mountain side had been covered, and Sam was slightly in advance, when suddenly he uttered a cry of alarm.
"Look out, Fred!"
"What is it?"
"A snake!"
"Where?"
"Over yonder! And he is coming for us!"
Sam was right; it was a snake--an angry looking reptile all of six feet long, and as thick as Sam's wrist. It hissed savagely as it advanced, first upon Sam and then upon Fred.
If there was one thing which could fill Fred Garrison full of terror it was a snake, and the yell he gave would have outmatched that of an Indian on the warpath.
"Save me!" he screamed. "Don't let him touch me!"
"Jump back!" cried Sam, and leaped himself. Then, seeing a tall rock handy, he sprang upon it, and here Fred joined him.
Now, it happened that the snake had its home under the rock, and the movement of the lads made it more angry than ever. With a fierce hiss it came for the rock and disappeared underneath, out of the range of their vision.