“Count on me to do the same,” remarked Lanky, enthusiastically. “Why, it would sort of break the school ties piecemeal, you see; and, besides, when you take a post-graduate course, you only go for an hour or so a day. That gives a fellow loads of time to take exercise outdoors. And I need a heap of that, believe me.” “What do you say about starting on again?” asked Frank. “How far do you think it is to that road?” Bones queried, sucking again at his bleeding hand, so that he might extract the last atom of poison that had come from the scratch of the creeper. “Oh! about a mile, I reckon,” Frank made answer, as they began to run. “Only hope it’s better going than the last one, then; that was fierce,” Bones went on to say, as he fell into his regular jogging pace, which the boys declared he could keep up for an unlimited number of hours; very much after the style of the Indian runners from Carlisle School, who got it from their ancestors, those dusky messengers who would journey hundreds of miles through dense forests, over mountains and deserts, with little or no rest. “Looks like we might have a snap here for a change,” remarked Lanky, as they arrived on the border of what seemed to be a large pasture, which told that they were now on some farm where stock were kept. So they mounted the rail fence. Frank remembered noticing at the time that this was built especially strong, and seemed to be even higher than usual; but then, as his mind was upon other subjects, he paid little attention to the fact. They had about half crossed the field when Lanky suddenly came to a stop. “Go on, fellows!” he called out; “I’ve got to tie my shoe again; I’ll catch up with you in a jiffy, before you get to the fence yonder.” “Put a knot in that shoelace, Lanky,” said Bones, laughingly, over his shoulder; “that makes the fourth time you’ve dropped down to tie it. Try that game in the race and it might lose you your chance. It often hangs on a small thing; doesn’t it, Frank?” Receiving no reply to his question Bones glanced up at the face of his chum. He found that Frank, while running steadily on, seemed to be apparently listening intently, for his head was cocked to one side. “What did you hear, Frank; the halloo of some other runner who’s bogged over in that swamp?” demanded Bones. “No; I thought I heard a snort, and it made me think of cattle,” replied Frank. “Well, that wouldn’t surprise me a whit,” declared the other, immediately; “for I’ve seen signs of ’em all along, and I reckon this field is used for--oh! now I heard it, too, Frank! A snort, you said; well, I guess it was more than that. I’d call it a bellow, and an ugly one at that. There’s something moving over back of Lanky. I guess he sees it, for he’s on his feet now, looking. Wow, there comes a cow, streaking it out from those bushes, and heading straight for Lanky!”