About every fourth leap Ball would cry, “Yock! Yocky-yocky yock!” It was sweet music to the ear. He did not bark often, but his voice was strong and piercing. Dinah brought up the rear, but was now thoroughly aroused, though the rabbit had made her heavy and slow. Simon was delighted to see her sticking to it so well and showing such interest. The hunters rode to the top of the hill, dismounted and waited patiently for the fox and the dogs to return. It might be an hour, or it might be four, but Sandy always came back to Drowning Creek, and the faster the race the quicker the return. Mr. Williamson and his companions did not have to loiter long that night, for within three-quarters of an hour after the hounds went out of hearing, Mark, with his keen ear, heard the tongue of Red Ball. It was coming back, “Yock! Yocky-yocky yock!” The men hurried to a road crossing to see the pack as it passed. Dogs had changed places. Some of the short-winded runners had dropped out and others fallen back. But Simon’s Dinah had performed the most wonderful feat; instead of bringing up the tail-end, she was pushing Ball. Her tongue was mingling with his, and the old negro could not constrain himself. He just had to yell, and yell he did, at the top of his voice. “As sho’ es de Lawd,” he shouted, “she’s one uv de ole stock!” But it was no time to shout. The dogs were flying on, and any inopportune whoop might bother them, so Simon was rebuked by the captain of the party. Sandy covered his three-mile circuit again, and returned to Holt’s Bay. By that time he saw that his life was in danger, for the hounds were racing him faster than he ever had to go before. If the gait continued death would be staring him in the face, so he determined to put forth his best efforts in a run to Buck Hill and back, a total of sixteen miles, but by foiling several miles he would have ample time to dodge in Holt’s Bay. The dogs were close after him when he left for Buck Hill, with Red Ball and Dinah cheek by jowl. Ball was running wild, while Dinah seemed to be getting better. To the west the flying pack went, the tongues of Ball and Dinah blended in one sound. Simon was so elated that he could not be still, moving about like a crazy man. When the music ceased, Mr. Williamson turned to Uncle Simon and said, “Old man, I’ll give you fifty dollars for her.” “Marse Lawrence, I needs de money, but I wouldn’t swap dat dog fer yo’ cotton mill; no sar, dat I wouldn’t.” After that there was no sound for more than two hours, though the hunters listened with strained ears. Mark was the first to hear the returning music. He cried: “Hush! There they come! Dinah’s in the lead!” “Yoo-it yoo-it yoo-it! yoo-it!” came the sound rending the air. Ball had fallen back ten feet or more. Again the hunters hastened to a place where they could view the dogs. That time they saw the fox, Big Sandy. He was but thirty yards ahead, with tail dragging the ground and tongue hanging out.