502 COQUET SIDE. 



by the other hounds ; at length the very terriers take it up, and yelp 

 in concert. Away they go, and the whole valley, now clear, and bright, 

 and glittering after the rain, rings to the glorious melody. " Weel, 

 that's maist extraordinair !" cries the huntsman ; "the thief maun hae 

 been out since the thunner, or never a hound in Coquet could hae 

 spoken till him. But they'll no gang lang that way." As the sports- 

 man predicts, it happens ; one grand and final crash, and the music is 

 suddenly hushed; and on coming up we find the hounds have run him 

 to ground, and are there heaving up their heads and howling to the 

 skies, while half-a-dozen of terriers are already snarling, worrying, 

 and struggling to get into the earth. One little dog, which the 

 huntsman calls Dandie, is already out of sight, and barking with a 

 tongue that proves the fox is at his nose ; while another scarred vete- 

 ran, called Dinmorit, stands yelping and shivering with impatience, 

 but, trained to perfect obedience, awaits his master's order to enter. 

 " That's it, Dan, lad ! hie, Dan, my wee man ! at him Dan ! kill him 

 and eat him !" cries the young farmer, in a voice that makes the very 

 echoes quake and quiver ; then, after a pause, in which he listens 

 knowingly to the sound of his dog's voice, " Na, Dan canna do't; an' 

 that's extraordinair too! Gang awa', Dinmont, ye auld thief! an' 

 pu' the tod out for him. He's Dan's father," continues he, " and as 

 auld as Teviot ; but I believe he wad squeeze himsel' through a hole 

 nae thicker than a leester shank to get at a tod. The young dog 

 canna win at him." Meantime, Dinmont has shot into the earth, and 

 immediately issue sounds such as never dog and fox created before. 

 The old dog's savage snarl, and fierce worry, mingles with howls of 

 the most terrible agony from Dandie ; then, in a short time, both 

 cease ; then the sharp yelp of Dinmont, proclaims he is at the fox j 

 at last, every sound is dead we wait for a while call out the dogs 

 but neither of them appear. " Odd !" cries the huntsman, with his 

 usual phrase, " that is maist extraordinair ! we maunna leave them, 

 however ; I wadna lose old Dinmont for a' the tods in Cheviot and 

 Keyheugh Scaur* to boot." Pickaxes and spades are therefore pro- 

 cured from the nearest hut ; an hour or two of toilsome digging suc- 

 ceeds, and then the terrible reality of things is seen. The young dog 

 lies positively torn limb from limb ; the fox is dead, and over his 

 body is stretched old Dinmont, scarcely able to wag his tail at the 

 caresses of his master. Dandie, though younger, and even smaller 

 bodied than his father, had got himself jammed in his passage to the 

 fox ; and the old dog, enraged at the obstruction, had absolutely torn 

 him to pieces, and, by dint of superior resolution, had gone in and 

 killed his enemy. Whatever the stranger to these rude sports feels 

 at this spectacle, he finds it necessary to conceal ; for the whole of the 

 huntsmen join in extolling the bottom and fierceness of the old dog to 

 the skies. The young farmer says nothing ; he puts the limbs of poor 

 Dandie decently together, and heaps a little earth and stones over 

 them ; then, taking up the old dog in his arms, he gives orders for 



* A famous breeding place for foxes, among the scattered cliffs of a huge rock 

 about seven or eight miles south-west from Rothbury on the Coquet. The 

 southern sportsman must bear in mind that it is the object of the store farmers 

 and shepherds among the hills to destroy as many foxes as possible ; in the 

 breeding-season, therefore, they still pursue them. 



