GALLANT HUN WITH THE HOUNDS. 123 



aucht o' the fox ?" "Fox, aye, losh, man lie's in 

 the byre here, lying afore the cow ; but o* man, 

 Will, dinria kill the puir beastie." But Will 

 was soon into the byre and out again with the 

 beastie in his brawny hand, soothing the feel- 

 ings of the good woman with the assurance that 

 the fox should have a fair chance for his life. 

 " Now, get hauld o' the huns," while Will slips 

 him quietly over the dyke into the haugh. But 

 the dogs wind their game once more, and are 

 bad to hold. They let them away. See 

 they are on him again, full cry, through the 

 wood and past Ferny Knowe again; over the 

 hill, down to the burn, and along the edge of 

 the shingles. Go into him now, my dogs of 

 war. The blood of old Moudy for over. Over 

 the burn, and on to the top of the scaur. Over 

 he goes, hounds and all, where they ran into as 

 fine a specimen of the greyhound fox as ever 

 footed the heather. The " steekers" in are now 

 up, let us see who we have. Here is Jock o* the 

 Houp, Matt o' Otterstone Lea, and Jimmie 

 Sisterson of Yarrow, three wiry-looking lads, 

 fleet as deer, and winded as Arabs ; Alain of 

 Smail, Tom Armstrong, Wannie, Toin Lowrie, 

 Lang Will, W. Little, and Mitt of Cranecleugh, 

 his homespun grey belted with a pair of couples 

 over a back like a barn board, and a breast like 



