BOSLEY S rOX 



371 



hope of gettino- a view, if province at home, the fox should 



break the usual line for Harlow Park. 



There was no doubt about his beincr at home, for a shrill 



view-halloa, directly hounds were put in, from the north corner, 



and at the same time a warning cry of " Hold hard ! It's tally 



ho! Back!" from that Old Parliamentary Hand, Georgie 



Dawson, checked the impetuous rush for a start, putting us 



all on the qui vivc. Hounds were now giving tongue freely 



in covert, and the fox could be seen sneaking along the top 



of the bank, the boundary fence of the wood. Breaking back 



for a moment, we feared that the cup would be dashed from 



our lips, and that he would be chopped in covert ; but no, 



as good luck would have it, he was over the road and 



half-way down the first long meadow before the Master 



could get the horn to his lips, for Bailey was back in covert. 



Twang, twang it went, but never a hound would come away, 



and the fox had put another field to the good before Bailey 



o-ot clear of the covert, brincrinor the hounds with him. 

 . . . 



With just a word of warning to my friend on the right 



that the insignificant-looking fence out of the first meadow 



would not stand trifling with, we were away for what appeared 



to be a most delightful country, and the Weald Brook to be 



reckoned with. Right on its very banks hounds hovered, 



threw up, and wouldn't carry the scent a yard further. Here 



was a sell, and all your fun, my brave seigneurs, would have 



been over for that evening if you hadn't had such an 



extraordinarily good huntsman at the head of affairs. Quick 



as lightning, in response to the halloa that came floating down 



wind, he caught hold of his hounds and galloped them back 



to the coppice. Although taking the shortest cut back 



past the farm buildings, we only just reached the further side 



of the covert in time to see the hounds streaming over the 



plough towards us, and going a rare cracker over the long 



meadow. It looked long odds on spending the evening in 



the big woodlands, but we were after no ordinary fox, and 



in his mind he had a certain big drain under Mr. Walter 



Law's barn, which, if he could only reach, he would be safe 



for that time at least, and once more would have the laugh on 



his side against Bailey and the Essex Hounds, for if I am 



not greatly mistaken, he was the renowned Bosley Fox, the 



hero of a hundred fights. 



Making straight for this sanctuary at North Weald, he 



was fortunately turned, and hounds settling down to run at 



a great pace, there was little time for looking about. Mr. 



