THE FOX IN SUMMER 145 



looks out, drops into the field beyond, and makes 

 for the smeuse. Alas ! Mr. Luckless comes round 

 the corner to light that cigar, or Mr. Dawdle, who 

 is late as usual, and hasn't been to the meet, enters 

 the field by the gate at the far side and meets the 

 fox face to face. He turns, but already the hounds 

 are emerging from covert, so he circles back in face 

 of the horsemen now pressing for a start. " Hang 

 it ! they are everywhere ! " he says to himself. " The 

 dog in the lane will have heard this row and be on 

 the watch ; better back to covert at once." So, 

 regardless of whip-cracking or shouts, he darts 

 through the throng and gets back to shelter, where, 

 perchance, bad scent and foiled ground serve him so 

 well that he is left in peace. " What a beastly 

 bad fox ! " say Messrs. Luckless and Dawdle. Well, 

 perhaps he is so now, for he has learned a bad 

 lesson, though he wasn't a bad one when he first 

 slipped away, but both looked like going and meant 

 it. 



That " the good fox is the one which goes away 

 first " is an accepted truth, but this is by no means 

 always the case, and I knew a little vixen who 

 resided in a gorse covert where foxes were plentiful — 

 I knew a little vixen, I say, who stoutly refused 

 to leave her home so long as another fox remained ; 

 but then away she would go, and invariably over 

 about the best line she could choose, while we were 

 seeking for "passes" in wired fences and railway 

 crossings in pursuit of a comrade who always selected 

 the most undesirable country in the locality. 



It is most difficult to account for the extraordinary 



Uouiuls, Gentlemen, Please. XI 



