THE ART ITSELF i6i 



the ground is becoming foiled and scent is failing. 

 The cry, which has been gradually becoming 

 less, has stopped altogether, the young hounds 

 stand about with their heads in the air, and the 

 old ones seem quite willing to give up the game. 

 Ride into that quarter of the covert where the 

 fox was last seen, and encourage your hounds 

 to find him again. He is probably lying down, 

 and will not move if he can possibly help it. 

 Old ' Resolute ' has put him up at last, and the 

 next second a ' tally-ho over ' tells you where he 

 has crossed the ride. Gallop to that spot in all 

 haste with the hounds your voice can collect, and 

 lay them on where he crossed. 



Fortune favours you, for the cub has gone 

 away, and that is more than you could have 

 expected. Out with your horn and blow a 

 cheery blast as you gallop to the point of exit. 

 Eighteen couple out of. the twenty-six are already 

 on the line, and are streaming over the grass. 

 They revel on clean scenting-ground, and show 

 no signs of flagging, in spite of near on two 

 hours' hard work in covert. At this pace you 

 know they must run into him in a very few 

 minutes, for the whip who viewed him away 



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