LETTER XXI. 233 



the brow of a hill, about forty yards distant from the 

 rock in which the fox was confined. The glare of light 

 led us to the spot, and, reflected on the rocks below, 

 showed us also where the trap was set up. Scrambling 

 up through the stunted juniper bushes, we reached an 

 overhanging crag, under which 1 posted my little band, 

 and then alone ascended to reconnoitre. No sentinel 

 was on the look out, but the voices of men were loud in 

 the cavern. I quietly removed the stone tile, and sent 

 the stones rolling down the hill, and in a few minutes 

 the whole trap was broken up. I then returned to my 

 men, and we waited for some time to see if any one came 

 out from the cave. No one appeared ; the voices sunk 

 gradually, and the fitful and flickering light, which only 

 at intervals lighted up the gloom, assured me that the 

 tenants of the cave had consigned themselves to the 

 drowsy arms of Morpheus for the remainder of the night. 

 Our enterprise was thus brought to a successful issue 

 without hard blows or broken heads. Our fox escaped, 

 and great was the indignation of the quarrymen the 

 next morning when they found "the Squire" had out- 

 manoeuvred them. To reconcile them to their disap- 

 pointment, I sent them a present to drink my health, and 

 a better look-out for themselves the next time. They 

 took it in high good humour, and ever afterwards assisted 

 me in preserving the foxes. 



Were there no receivers there would be no thieves ; 

 but there is often found on the borders of a fox-hunting 

 country some scratch pack of curs, miscalled harriers, 

 which often turn down a bag fox on their high days and 

 holidays, sometimes secretly, but generally openly, in 

 defiance of every law and rule by which real sportsmen 



