Almost at their feet stretched a pile of bones that glared white and gruesome in the uncanny light. CHAPTER XII HAS TO DO WITH STORM AND LIGHTNING; DISCOVERS TOM IN TEARS, AND CONCLUDES THE ADVENTURE When Mr. Verder gave the word, twenty-three hounds started in pursuit of the hares, and in the foremost group trotted Tom. They had just reached the village when the rain burst, and the way in which they piled into the post-office led the village gossips there assembled to jump from their chairs in terror, thinking they were attacked by a gang of desperadoes. And when the fellows had slammed the door behind them and gathered at the windows to watch the torrent, they saw through the hissing sheets of water the solitary form of Mr. Thomas Courtenay Ferris trotting doggedly on up the road. Then the door opened and closed again, and Bob sped after him. “What are you going to do, you crazy dub?” panted Bob when he had caught up. “Cu-cu-catch those fu-fu-fu-fellows,” answered Tom resolutely. “Why, they’ve given it up by this time, you idiot!” “I haven’t. I su-su-said I was going to finish, and I am!” “Poppycock!” muttered Bob. “However, I’ll see you through.” “You’ll gu-gu-gu-get wet,” said Tom. “So’ll you.” “I du-du-du-don’t mind.” “Neither do I; I like it. Fine, isn’t it?” “Su-su-swell!” gasped Tom. So on they plodded, every footfall sending a spray of muddy water against their bare legs, keeping the trail in sight with difficulty, since the torn paper had in many places been washed aside or covered by the pools of water that had already formed along the road. They overran the trail where it left the highway and had to cast about for fully a minute before they found it again, and took off across the field, which was rapidly becoming like a cranberry bog. Once in the forest it wasn’t quite so bad, for the trees afforded some slight protection. But poor Tom’s breath was almost gone, and when they finally reached the place where a pile of wet paper told its own story, he was glad to throw himself down on the wet ground and rest. What to do next was a problem. Finally Bob, with a fair idea of their whereabouts, suggested climbing the hill and reaching the road on the other side. So Tom, with a final gasp, struggled to his feet, and they took up their way again. It was Tom who caught sight of the hut. “Lu-lu-lu-look over there, Bu-bu-bu-Bob!” he spluttered.