146 THE FOX IN SUMMER 



number of what hunting men call " bad foxes " which 

 are found in some seasons. 



Foxes that have been badly frightened by human 

 beings soon become bad foxes, and seldom can be 

 induced to face the open without extraordinary pres- 

 sure. The attentions of their four-footed enemies 

 in the covert are troublesome, but preferable to even 

 the sight of the hated biped in scarlet outside. 



And from consideration of bad foxes one's thoughts 

 turn to scent — the great mystery of Diana, the puzzle 

 to huntsmen from the days of Nimrod to the time of 

 Tom Firr. What more can be said or written upon 

 so perplexing a subject ? Truly, I fear but little 

 that is really useful, though experiences and reflec- 

 tions may possibly be found entertaining. Theories, 

 axioms, and hard-and-fast rules have from time to 

 time been put forward concerning scent and the 

 causes which influence it, and all in their turn have 

 been contradicted and upset. When — 



"Each horse wore a crupper, 

 Each squire a pigtail," 



our ancestors believed in the " southerly wind and 

 the cloudy sky" as heralds of a hunting morning 

 Half a century passes, and Squire Delme Radcliffe, 

 in eloquent prose, begs for a northerly breeze to 

 bring him scent and sport. The " lowering wintry 

 morn " is welcomed, in spite of its gloom, by the 

 ardent fox-hunter, and the rays of bright Phoebus 

 bring no brightness to his soul ; some seasons ago a 

 continuance of sport, such as is seldom seen, was 



