Then all at once old Jude chimed in with her mellow voice, and Jones tumbled off his horse.
"By the Lord Harry! There's something here." "Here, Colonel, here's the bush Sounder smelt and there's a sandy trail under it," I called.
"There go Don an' Tige down into the break!" cried Frank.

"They've got a hot scent!" Jones stooped over the place I designated, to jerk up with reddening face, and as he flung himself into the saddle roared out: "After Sounder! Old Tom! Old Tom! Old Tom!" We all heard Sounder, and at the moment of Jones's discovery, Moze got the scent and plunged ahead of us.
"Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!" yelled the Colonel.

Frank sent Spot forward like a white streak.

Sounder called to us in irresistible bays, which Moze answered, and then crippled Jude bayed in baffled impotent distress.
The atmosphere was charged with that lion.

As if by magic, the excitation communicated itself to all, and men, horses and dogs acted in accord.