THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 133 



leturned the old hound. " Soil is about the 

 only dodge a stag has to try his cunning at; 

 but a fox rarely hangs in or about water. I, 

 however," continued he, " was prepared for 

 any trick with the devil's own, and my 

 anticipation of a deep one proved correct." 



We now came to a more enclosed country, 

 and the fences greatly added to our momen- 

 tarily increasing distress. The hounds 

 dropped off one by one, and some, attempting 

 to jump the steep and wide ditches, fell into 

 them, and there laid, not having strength 

 enough to crawl out again. 



It was fearful work, and how I managed to 

 stagger forward is a mystery to me to this 

 day. Trimbush did his best to cheer us on, 

 and continually reminded us " that a kill was 

 certain if we only stuck to him a little 

 longer.'' But this " little longer " appeared 

 to be a very indefinite period. 



The winter day was waning fast. Objects 

 at a short distance began to loom through the 

 thickening shades, and the sun's last rays had 

 ' scarcely left a faint tinge of his glory in the 

 west. Still the chase went on. There was no 

 check, let, or stop. On, on, we flew : the 

 pursuing and pursued. 



