One September morning, before breakfast, Ned and Harry went woodchuck hunting. They took Dick, who is a big, fat, spotted coach-dog, and Gyp, a little black-and-tan, with short ears, and afraid of a mouse,—both "such splendid hunters," Harry said.
Gyp ran ahead on three legs; and Dick walked sedately behind. Ned carried the bow, and Harry, the three arrows: and it was enough to make any wise woodchuck tremble to see them.
First they crossed a potato-field, and then a meadow where there was a brook, and where they lost Gyp so often among the bogs, that Harry carried him at last so as to know where he was. Dick ran through the brook, and shook himself over Ned's new sailor-suit; but that was no matter.
Then they came to a rickety old stone wall, and Dick barked. "It must be a woodchuck in the wall. We've got him!" shouted Ned. "Down comes the wall!" Then the stones fell; and Gyp jumped up and down with excitement, while Dick gave a low and terrible growl. "He must be here," said Ned.

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