It seemed a little nearer.

He paused and listened.

It came again, always nearer and nearer, and now it did not seem as musical as before.

There was a sinister thread in that flowing note, and suddenly Dick remembered.
He was a daring horseman and with his uncle and cousin and others at Pendleton he had often ridden after the fox.

It was the note of the hounds, but of bloodhounds, and this time they were following him.