74 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 



common, and on climbing a steep hill I saw a 

 magpie darting to the ground and then rising 

 high in the air' to swoop again. 



" What's that chattering pie doing? " 

 inquired I, directing Trimbush's attention to 

 the bird. 



" Mobbing him," replied he. " The mag- 

 pie, jay and crow love to mob a sinking fox. 

 Keep your eye forward; it will soon be from 

 scent to view. ' ' 



** Are those covers strong?" I asked, 

 seeing that we were making for a long line of 

 trees. 



•^ Little more than spinnies," replied my 

 friend. ** He can't hang in them a minute." 



We drove him through these little covers 

 without let, check, or stop; and at the last, 

 out he flew in view of all of us. We rushed at 

 him like greyhounds from the slips ; but, with 

 a desperate effort to save his life, he managed 

 to dash round the corner of a barn, and, as we 

 turned, I saw him slipping along on the top 

 of a thick square-topped hawthorn fence, 

 and, springing upon the trunk of a tree 

 covered with ivy, disappear. None of the 

 others saw this artful dodge; but all flashed 

 forward, and were bewildered at not either 



