THE ST AVERT OX RUN. 321 



the present, it was a case of how soon a fox should die or how 

 soon we should run ourselves out. The bridle road was of 

 amazing help ; and, for that matter, after leaving Shuckhurgh 

 it was scarcely necessary to jump a fence, did you know the 

 country and ride near the hounds. But as the bridle-path 

 approached the Braunston Brook, hounds edged off to the 

 right ; and some men followed them, lest the direction should 

 now be Shuckburgh again. The brook was crossed ; and the 

 jump was very moderate ; but the sting was out of the horses- 

 and they lurched down to the water with a dull and inelastic 

 stride. Two refusals and a loud plunge made matters appa- 

 rently hopeless, till Mr. W. Walton proffered the needed lead • 

 and a dozen grateful men at once got to hounds. A few fields 

 further came the hillside spinnies of Drayton — one hour and 

 five minutes, grass all the way till now, and pace unceasing if 

 not exactly terrific. 



The move upwards took us out of the vale, and set hounds- 

 going over the upland between the town of Daventry and the 

 village of Welton. No fox had come to hand ; and the end 

 seemed as far off as ever. "Too much, too much ! " murmured 

 men. " Too much, too much ! " sighed the gasping horses — 

 nearly all that had been ridden up being by this time woe- 

 fully distressed. Happily for all, it was necessary to jump^ 

 scarcely a fence after Flecknoe, if riders knew the country and 

 made any use of their knowledge. Now, through the wire-girt 

 neighbourhood of Daventry, hounds again improved the pace; 

 and reached the Reservoir — their fox to be seen leaving the 

 farther shore as they skirted the nearer black swamp that was 

 our portion once before in the season now fading. The roads 

 allowed us all to plod wearily on within sight and range of the 

 bustling pack, now working rapidly on to the left of Norton 

 village — till every moment it seemed (as was fervently prayed) 

 that a kill might bring the journey to an end. Within a field 

 or so of Mr. J. A. Craven's house at Whilton Place, hounds 

 suddenly threw up — and not all the huntsman's keen resource 

 availed to solve the enigma. His fox may have lain down 



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