There was a moment's pause of expectation after the Judge entered the thicket with his hounds.

We sat motionless on our horses, eagerly looking through the keen fresh morning air.

Then a clamorous baying from the thicket in which both the horseman and dogs had disappeared showed that the hounds had struck the trail of their quarry and were running on a hot scent.

For a couple of minutes we could not be quite certain which way the game was going to break.

The hounds ran zigzag through the brush, as we could tell by their baying, and once some yelping and a great row showed that they had come rather closer than they had expected upon at least one of the wolves.
In another minute, however, the latter found it too hot for them and bolted from the thicket.