Panting and
almost breathless with terror the two boys crept cautiously up the
roof--the moss-covered shingles were so slippery that it was all they
could do to keep from sliding off among the hounds--and seating
themselves on the ridge-pole looked at each other and at the savage
brutes from which they had so narrowly escaped. Then they looked all
around to find the person who had set the dogs upon them, but could
see nothing of him.
[Illustration: Treed by Don Gordon's Hounds.]
"Where has he gone, I wonder?" said Lester, who was the first to
speak.
"Haven't the least idea," replied Bob.
"Who was it?"
"Don't know that, either. It didn't sound to me like Don's voice,
but it sounded like his whistle, and if it was him, I wish he'd come
and call the dogs off. I am willing to give up now, Lester. Luck is
always on his side, and if he will let us go home without making any
fuss about it, I'll promise to leave him alone in future."
Lester could not find fault with his companion for losing his courage
and talking in this strain, for he was frightened half to death
himself, and he would have made all sorts of promises if he could
only have climbed down from that roof and sneaked off to bed without
being seen by anybody.
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