Big an' yaller he is; we can tell from the slight flash we gets of him as he darts into a second clump of bushes.

With a cry--what young Crittenden calls a "view halloo,"-- we goes stampedin' down the pike in pursoot.
"'Our dogs is sta'nch; they shore does themse'fs proud.

Singin' in twenty keys, reachin' from growls to yelps an' from yelps to shrillest screams, they pushes dauntlessly on the fresh trail of their terrified quarry.

Now an' then we gets a squint of the panther as he skulks from one copse to another jest ahead.

Which he's goin' like a arrow; no mistake! As for us Chevy Chasers, we parallels the hunt, an' continyoos poundin' the Skinner turnpike abreast of the pack, ever an' anon givin' a encouragin' shout as we briefly sights our game.
"'Gents,' says Colonel Sterett, as he ag'in refreshes himse'f, 'it's needless to go over that hunt in detail.