THE DEATH OF THE FOX 145 



you can do no good : they must do it all themselves. 

 Lift them now, and not a hound will stoop again. 

 Ha ! a high road at such a time as this, when the 

 tenderest- nosed hound can hardly own the scent! 

 Another fault ! That man at work, then, has headed 

 back the fox. Huntsman ! cast not your hounds 

 now ; you see they have over-run the scent : have 

 a little patience, and let them, for once, try back. 



We now must give them time. See where they 

 bend towards yonder furze brake ! I wish he may 

 have stopped there ! Mind that old hound, how he 

 dashes o'er the furze ; I think he winds him ! Now 

 for a fresh entapis ! Hark ! they halloo ! Aye, there 

 he goes ! 



It is nearly over with him : had the hounds caught 

 view, he must have died. He will hardly reach the 

 cover. See how they gain upon him at every 

 stroke! It is an admirable race! yet the cover 

 saves him. 



Now be quiet, and he cannot escape us : we have 

 the wind of the hounds, and cannot be better placed. 

 How short he runs ! He is now in the very strongest 

 part of the cover. What a crash ! every hound is in, 

 and every hound is running for him. That was a 

 quick turn! Again another! he's put to his last 

 shifts. Now Mischief is at his heels, and death is 

 not far off. Ha ! they all stop at once : all silent, and 

 yet no earth is open. Listen ! now they are at him 

 again ! Did you hear that hound catch view ? They 

 over-ran the scent, and the fox had laid down behind 

 them. Now, Reynard, look to yourself! How quick 



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