128 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 



cover, and just when about the thick of it, a 

 whimper from Chancellor announced that the 

 devil's own was afoot. 



" Tally-ho! " now rung from Tom Holt's 

 throat. 



" Shoot to the right," said Trimbush, lead- 

 ing, and in a few strides we were outside the 

 thick, almost impenetrable gorse. 



" Tally-ho, tally-ho !" again hallooed Tom. 



" Come along," said the old hound, " we 

 are close to his brush this time at any rate." 



Racing to where the whipper-in stood with 

 his cap in the air, we picked up the scent and 

 found it sweeter than fresh-pulled flowers. 



Settling to him, and with a bunch of our 

 companions, who likewise made play to the 

 halloo as we did, away we rattled at the pace 

 which only a burning scent and hounds 

 bristling for a kill can show. 



For an hour-and-a-half we burst him along, 

 and not one fox in a thousand could have 

 stood before us for such a time and over such 

 a country, in which there was not so much as 

 a spinny to hide him; but he kept on at just 

 the same rate, and a halloo, every now and 

 then, told us that he was only just a-head. 

 Several of us were tailed off, and some never 



