72 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 



given him to quit it, he still stuck to his 

 quarters. 



' * You shall either run or die, ' ' said Trim- 

 bush, going through the cover like a bullet. 



A clear, musical " Tally-ho " now echoed 

 far and wide. 



** Gone away at last, eh? " observed my 

 friend, and, throwing up his head, he rushed 

 to the halloo. 



'* Hold hard ! " roared the Squire, as one, 

 too eager, rode nearly over me as I leaped 

 from the cover. " You almost killed, sir," 

 continued he, '* the best of my young entry, 

 and perhaps the most valuable puppy I ever 

 bred." 



" I beg your pardon, sir ; but my horse pulls 

 so, that " 



'* Then he is not fit to ride to hounds, sir," 

 hastily rejoined the Squire. 



Being high on our mettle, we flashed 

 forward, after just touching the scent on a 

 dry-lying fallow, thinking that we had struck 

 on his line; but Trimbush, and a few of the 

 old hounds, soon found that they were wrong, 

 and, throwing up their heads, came to a 

 check. 



** Let them alone, " said the Squire, as Will 



