

46 WARWICK WOODLANDS. 



rower road coming in at a tangent, went off to the south-west- 

 ward in the direction of the bold projection, which i had learned 

 to recognise as Rocky Hill ; over the high I'ence into the road ; 

 well performed, gallant horses ! And now they check for a mo- 

 ment, puzzling about on the dry sandy turnpike. 



u Dangerous feathers on it now! Speak to it ! speak to it. 

 good hound !" 



How beautiful that flourish of the stern with which he darts 

 away on the recovered scent; with what a yell they open it 

 once again ! Harry was right, he makes for Rocky Hill, but up 

 this plaguey lane, where the scent lies but faintly. Now! now! 

 the road turns off again far westward of his point ! He may, by 

 Jove ! and he has left it ! 



" Have at him then, lads ; he is ours !" 



And lo ! the pace increases. Ha ! what a sudden turn, and 

 in the middle too of a clear pasture. 



" Has he been headed, Harry ?" 



u No, no ; his strength is failing." 



And see ! he makes his point again toward the hill ; it is 

 within a quarter of a mile, and if he gain it we can do nothing 

 with him, for it is full of earths. But he will never reach it. 

 See ! he turns once again ; how exquisitely well those bitches 

 run it; three times he has doubled, now almost as short as a 

 hare, and they, running breast-high, have turned with him each 

 time, not over-running it a yard. 



See how the sheep have drawn together into phalanx yonder, 

 in that bare pasture to the eastward ; he has crossed that field 

 for a thousand ! Yes, I am right. See ! they turn once again. 

 What a delicious rally ! An outspread towel would cover those 

 four leading hounds now Dauntless has it; has it by half a 

 neck. 



" He always goes up when a fox is sinking," Harry exclaimed, 

 pointing toward him with his hunting whip. 



Aye ! he has given up his point entirely ; he knew he could 

 not face the hill. Look ! look at those carrion crows ! how low 

 they stoop over that woody bank. That is his line. Here is 

 the road again. Over it once more merrily ! and now we view him. 



" Whoop ! Forra-ard, lads, forra-ard !" 



He cannot hold five minutes ; and see, there comes fat Tom, 

 pounding that mare along the road as if her fore-feet were of 

 hammered iron ; he has come up along the turnpike, at an in- 



