152 MEMOIR OF 



India, and afterwards so famous at home both 

 in " silk and in scarlet," are riding like madmen 

 to stop them, their efforts are utterly vain. Nav, 

 had Jove's winged messenger been there, the 

 god himself could never have stopped those 

 nine merciless hounds, as on they sped, like 

 very demons, in pursuit of their prey. 



In thirty-five minutes the fox — that gay 

 Lothario — bright as a new guinea when he first 

 broke cover, but now beaten and begrimed with 

 soil, bites the dust, and is torn, as Mr. Whyte- 

 Melville has it, into 



"A hundred tatters of brown." 



But what of Russell ? On bringing back 

 the hounds to Helland Wood there thev found 

 him, sticking to his fox, like the Old Man of 

 the Sea to Sinbad the Sailor ; and driving him 

 like wildfire, through that great cover, as if it 

 was no bigger than a wallow-spinney. 



"A fresh hat in the ring," thought Russell, 

 as he greeted the nine hounds thrown in at 

 head : " Now then, Arthur, we shall have him 

 in no time ; " and they killed him in an hour 

 and twenty minutes. 



On counting the hounds it was found that 

 three of them w^ere missing ; and anon came 

 tidings that a third fox had slipped away, and 

 that those hounds had been seen by a turf-cutter 

 near the Jamaica Inn, streaming away towards 

 Brownwilly. Jemmy Revnolds, kennel-man to 



