80 FOX-HUNTING IN NEW ENGLAND 



in small circles, encompassing an acre or so, as he 

 often will for half an hour at a time before a slow 

 dog, you cautiously work up to leeward of him and 

 try your chances for a shot. If he encircles the 

 whole hill or crosses from hill to hill, there are 

 certain points which every fox, whether stranger 

 or to this particular woodland born, is likely to take 

 in his way, but not sure to do so. Having learned 

 these points by hearsay or experience, you take 

 your post at the nearest or likeliest one, and 

 between hope and fear await your opportunity. 

 Such a place is this Notch, toward which with 

 hasty steps and beating heart you take your way. 

 When the fox returns, if he crosses to the south 

 hill, he will come down that depression between 

 the ledges which you face; then cross the brook 

 and come straight in front of you, toward the 

 wood-road in which you stand, or else turn off to 

 the right to cross the road and go up that easy 

 slope to the south hill, or turn to the left and cross 

 on the other hand. Standing midway between 

 these points, either is a long gun-shot off, but it is 

 the best place to post yourself; so here take breath 

 and steady your nerves. 



How still the woods are! The hounds are out 

 of hearing a mile away. No breeze sighs through 

 the pines or stirs the fallen leaves. The trickle of 

 the brook, the penny trumpet of a nuthatch, the 

 light hammering of a downy woodpecker are the 



