THE BADGER, AND HOW HE IS HUNTED. 65 



cross the fields to some unknown stronghold. No ; 

 he turns inside the fence, and the scent improving 

 enables the hounds to push him along more briskly. 

 He crosses the wood and makes for the stream at 

 the bottom, hoping no doubt that the wet and marshy 

 ground will spoil the scent. It certainly does not 

 improve it, and a hare crossing the line leads some 

 of the hounds astray, but the veterans will have 

 nothing to say to it, and we are luckily able to stop 

 the others. After a short check the old hounds open 

 again, and, fresh-found in a thick bramble patch, the 

 badger has no resource but to set his head for home. 

 Away he goes, and just as he reaches the mound of 

 earth before his hole, the keeper leaps out from his 

 place of concealment with a shout. The fright pre- 

 vents the badger from examining the burrow, and he 

 dives headforemost into the bag. Next minute the 

 keeper's whistle informs us he has him, and we, too, 

 make for the earth. There we find Velveteens holding 

 up the bag by the strings, with the eager hounds 

 snatching vainly at it. We sit down panting and 

 wipe our foreheads. 



" Good badger this, gents," says the keeper; 

 " weighs over two stun', I warrant. Must have run 

 near on half an hour, too." 



" Have a drop of whiskey, keeper. Who's got a 

 light ? One o'clock ! that'll do for to-night, anyway." 



We depart homewards, the keeper's boy with the 

 sack on his back. It is absolutely necessary that a 

 captive badger should be placed in a building with a 

 stone-paved floor. Should the floor be anything less 



