268 Cross Country with Horse and Hound 



"Get back, Browso! Back, Smuggler!" shout the 

 whippers-in, with much cracking of their double thongs. 



The instant the hounds are collected, the huntsman 

 takes them back to the point where the older hounds hesi- 

 tated. Sure enough ! Tinbush hits off the line of the 

 hunted fox with a cry of joy that brings every hound to 

 her side. Away they go again, making the forest echo 

 with the clamour of their musical tongues. 



Meanwhile Renard has been having a rest, enjoying his 

 laugh at the hounds and his good joke on his friend. Now 

 he hears the pack returning, and begins to realise his scheme 

 has failed. Yet he has caused a check and recovered his 

 second wind. With another flourish of his brush, another 

 knowing look, he steals away along the furrow of a half- 

 ploughed field. On goes the chase. Again the hounds are 

 getting too near for comfort. Renard now stops, jumps as 

 wide as he can to the right, runs on a little way, and lies 

 down again ; or runs back in the very tracks he came in. 

 The hounds coming on at a fearful pace go a hundred 

 yards or more over the end of the line. Their heads go 

 up, their music ceases. Again they are at a check. But 

 the huntsman, not checkmated yet by any means, recalls that 

 a little way back Bluebells made a sharp fling to the right. 

 He said "I thought so" perhaps, at the time, but always 

 lets his hounds make their own cast first to see what they 

 can do without his assistance. He blows his horn again, 

 and, with a wide cast back to where Bluebells made her 

 drive to the right, the pack again hits off the line. Again 

 Mr. Renard says, " Good day, gentlemen; I see I must be 

 moving," and trots off in a leisurely way until he hears the 

 pack once more upon his line in full cry. 



