"We're bound to pull up on them if Coote only keeps up." So they held on gallantly.
They could not long keep up the fiction of being in the hunt.

No amount of self-deception could persuade them, when the end of the straggling line of fellows going up the ridge was a clear half-mile ahead, that they were in it.

Still every minute they held on they felt more like staying, and when they reflected that it was possible to run through the hunt without being in at the death, they took comfort, and determined Templeton should not say they had turned tail.
"We shall have to follow the scent now," said Dick, when the pack suddenly disappeared to view over the ridge.

"Thank goodness, it's all white paper, and plenty of it.

Come on, you fellows, we'll run it through yet." "I feel quite fresh," said Coote, mopping his head with his handkerchief.