192 MANAGEMENT OF HOUNDS. 



quiries about the drain. He said he knew it well, and 

 that we could not get the fox out, as it ran some length 

 up the field, and advised me to give him up at once and 

 look for another; "And be laughed at by the Slows," I 

 added. " No, farmer, I must have him out in the open 

 once more ; he is not half beaten yet, and a bird in the 



hand you know " ** Well, Sir, what's to be done ; 



I am ready to lend a hand." " Go, then, straight away 

 to that farmhouse, bring me a good bundle of straw 

 under your arm, and a tinder-box (cigars were not then 

 in fashion), and some brimstone matches, the more the 

 better." Off he went joyfully to do my bidding. My 

 old friend, as usual (who would come out), seemed now 

 in good humour. " He has beaten you, I think," he said 

 sarcastically. "I am not quite satisfied yet on that 

 point," I rephed. " Oh, I suppose you are going to dig 

 a man's field to pieces, to kill a fox and eat him on the 

 earth." " No, Sir, we do not do things in that cowardly 



way in our part of the world ; but bolt him I will if I 



»» 

 can. 



The young farmer quickly returned, and borrowed a 



spade from a hedger and ditcher. I stopped up the 



mouth of the drain leaving Jim there, who was told what 



to do. I then took the hounds with me to the upper 



end of the drain, where we opened a hole ; the hounds 



winded him down the drain — that was all I wanted to 



know. " Now, farmer, for the straw and matches." 



Cramming all the straw into the drain, I set fire to it, 



and threw the rest of the matches upon it. When well 



burning I stamped some sods upon the entrance. " Well, 



Sir, if that don't make him sneeze snuff won't, that's all 



1 can say ; why he'll stink like a burnt pig when he comes 



