Echoes of the Hunting Horn 



work. He is already visualising a triumph in the open, 

 when suddenly, his hopes are dashed to smithereens ! 

 Some thoughtless rider at the covert-side, who may be 

 feeling somewhat bored by the seemingly pointless wood 

 hunt, sees a fox and excitedly yells " Tally-ho ! " (The 

 fact that it was an ancient and wise-looking dog-fox 

 who had the cunning to lie low until hounds came too 

 dangerously near, does not seem to matter an iota !) 

 He continues to yell himself hoarse. Old Reynard 

 seems doubtful as to whether the tonguing hounds or 

 the howling human seem the more dangerous; he 

 decides that the latter is, and slinks back into the wood 

 and almost into the teeth of the oncoming pack ! 



A few masterly wriggles save him from being torn 

 to pieces. He has been in tight corners before; and 

 even with hounds snapping at his brush, his self- 

 confidence does not forsake him. He knows he is 

 fresh and, with any luck, could yet lead them a ten- 

 mile-point. He whisks along the bank-top until well 

 past the howling human, dives through the hedge, flits 

 across the drain and streaks away to the open country. 

 As his lissom body stretches out into a racing, rhythmical 

 and seemingly effortless stride, one feels convinced that 

 a ten-mile-point would not worry unduly this venerable 

 gentleman. 



The huntsman has two alternatives. He can allow 

 hounds to hunt their fresh fox; or stop them and en- 

 deavour to recapture the line of their original cub. To 

 adopt the former course is sheer mirage-chasing. Horses 

 and hounds, especially the puppies, are not yet fit enough 

 for a strenuous cross-country run : scent will soon be 



178 



