316 WHICH IS THE BEST 



the pack dashes into the thicket of furze and privet, 

 and the trees send back the echoing crack of a whip. 

 A minute later the air is full of clamour, for a fox 

 has jumped up from his snug bed in the long grass 

 among the privet bushes, right under the noses of 

 the pack, and every hound seems anxious to let us 

 know that he is aware of the presence of his enemy. 



A knot of countrymen who are standing by my 

 horse are straightway seized with a species of frenzy, 

 and the instantaneous rush for the covert that follows 

 is amusing to witness. But there goes the fox, right 

 across the park towards the plantation by the lake. 

 Every soul that sees him yells, and one urchin who 

 has been kneeling down tying his bootlace, and has 

 seen nothing but tattered leather and green turf 

 for the last minute and a half, gives vent to such 

 blood-curdling shrieks that my sober steed shies from 

 him in fright. Hounds come out, and, catching a 

 view, stretch themselves out over the grass after their 

 quarry. The fleet-footed populace gird up their loins, 

 and tear after them, while their elders collect in knots 

 and shout encouragement. The Master, with the 

 reins on the well-bred chestnut's neck, doubles his horn 

 merrily as he gallops forward, the first whipper-in 

 diverges away to the left, and his aide from the covert 

 holloas lustily, " Get away ! get away ! get away ! 

 hoick!" 



Now is the time for the lads and lassies on the 

 ponies, who are having a real merry Christmas, and 

 no mistake. With what genuine enthusiasm they set 

 to work ! It was a real fox they saw — they all saw 

 him — and there are the real hounds trying to catch 



