THE GREAT WOODCHUCK SOCIETY. 215

They rushed up to see. They were just too late. Every-
body was just too late. Wh-e-ew! Whiz-2! Whir-tr-r! A’
click, a squeal, a spring!

“‘He’s doubled!” cried the Chairman.

To be sure he had.

Away like a shot! Away like a flash of sullen anger!
Two little claws left sticking in the trap, and that was all.

The entire Woodchuck Society gave chase. So did the
Tatting Club. Nobody stopped to think which could run the
fastest. But without stopping to think, the President and
the Chairman found themselves in the lead. The Chairman
had the start. The President bounded after him. He leaped
a fence. She slipped under. He waded through a ditch. She
jumped from stone to stone. He bounded over a stone wall
like a big Newfoundland dog. She flew over like a butterfly.
He wet his feet. So did she. He didn’t care. Neither did
she. They gained on the little angry flash, that cut under
fallen leaves and in twists of boughs and berries, and under
trunks and stones before them.

Moreover, the President gained on the Chairman ; a foot

—a rod— two — two and a half.
_ How she did it, who can tell? She dodged a hickory, she
leaped a bar, she watched a chance, she knelt and crouched,
she held her breath: panting, terrified, off his guard, think-
ing himself forgotten, the woodchuck actually came quivering
round a great gray stone, and walked right into the Presi-
dent’s apron !