"Many men joined together and agreed to make a search, but nothing could be found in connection with the poor old man; so they gave it up. One morning after my coach had gone, I determined to follow old Trojan. The poor old dog was overjoyed, and led me right down to the Pine Bottom. I followed him pretty near a mile through the trees and that, until at last we come upon poor Old Lal's waggon. There was his seat, there was part of the harness, and there lay, stone-dead, one of the hounds. "No trace could be found of the poor old man, and folks were more puzzled than ever about his whereabouts. "It seemed as though the waggon had got set fast between the trees, and Trojan and Rocket had bitten themselves free, the third, a light-coloured one (a yellow one), had died. "The finding of the waggon set all the country up to search for poor Old Lal, but it wasn't for more'n a week after finding the waggon, that Trojan and Rocket pointed out by their action where to go and look for the poor old man. And he was found, but it was a long ways off from his waggon. There he lay, quite comfortable, by the side of a bank. The crowner said the hounds had given chase to something (maybe a fox crossed 'em) and clashed off the road, throw'd the poor old man off--perhaps stunned with the fall--and the hounds had persevered through the wood till the waggon got locked up in the trees. And there the poor things lay and would have died if they had not gnawed themselves out of their harness." "And what was the verdict?" "Oh, there was no verdic'! They never found that." "There must have been some opinion given." "Jury said he was a pauper wagrant, that he had committed accidental death, and the crowner sentenced him to be buried in the parish in which he was last seen alive." "Had he any friends or relatives?" "No; he said he never had any. He had no name, only Lal. Old Trojan has been with me ever since we followed a short square box up to the churchyard, containing the body of poor Old Lal, where we left it. There was nobody attended the funeral only we two. If the old dog ever wanders away for a day or two, he allers comes back more gloomier like than he looks now." The old hound had been standing in the same attitude, apparently a most attentive listener to this sad tale, and when I attempted a pat of sympathy he turned round and threaded his way through the crowd of mourning-coaches; and Daniel Sleigh informed me that the wreck of poor Old Lal's waggon had been stowed away at the back of this melancholy group. Upon this the old hound usually lay. "And what about Rocket?"