THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 135 



cool refreshing wind at my nostrils, I fell 

 to the ground, faint and breathless; but 

 every effort proved fruitless ; and crouching 

 behind the trunk of a large tree, I was 

 obliged to remain stationary sorely against 

 my wiU. 



For a few minutes I heard my companions 

 driving the devil's own to the furthest end of 

 the cover from where I laid, and then, as their 

 cry approached, I knew they had headed him 

 towards me. Putting my head close to the 

 ground, I saw the fox creeping along with his 

 back up, scarcely able to crawl. His tongue 

 was drooping from his jaws, and his brush 

 dragged along as if there was not strength 

 enough in him even to lift that. Every now 

 and then he stopped and turned his head, 

 and, not perceiving me, continued to near the 

 spot where I laid. Close and closer he came, 

 and, at length, coming within springing 

 distance, I made an effort which surprised 

 myself, and fastened my teeth right across the 

 middle of his loins before he had a chance of 

 knowing from what quarter he was attacked. 

 Catching me by the ear, however, he gave me 

 a dying grip which made me remember the 

 length of his teeth and the strength of his 



