The dog scented the blanket, uttering as he did so a low whimper, and gazing in his master's face with a look of intelligence.

He seemed to comprehend what was required of him.
Basil now flung the blanket over his own saddle, stooped again, drew his fingers along the grass, and, with a wave of his hand, motioned Marengo to follow its direction.

The hound, uttering a single yelp, bent his nose to the ground, and sprang forward upon the trail.
Basil instantly leaped into his saddle; and, snatching up the reins, cried out to his brother,-- "Come, Lucien! we must not lose sight of the dog, though our horses drop dead in their tracks! All depends upon keeping him in view." Both plied the spur, and dashed forward at a gallop.
"We must know how to find our way back again," said Basil, reining up, as they passed the edge of one of the timber clumps.

"We must not ourselves get lost;" and, as he said this, he crashed the branch of a tree, until the broken end hung dangling downward.

He then resumed his gallop.
For nearly a mile the hound ran in a direct line.