540 BIO GAME OF NORTH AMERICA. 



the horseshoe curve of the creek. If so, position at the 

 spring, being on the chord of the arc when we should 

 arrive at that point, would give us a view of the race for 

 about a mile, when we could join in the chase as it turned 

 into the long stretch of bottom-lands at the lower end of 

 the mill-dam field. 



When we reached a point within one hundred yards of 

 the spring, the roar of the mill-dam, mingling with the 

 thunderous echoes of the pack behind the cliffs, was like 

 the peal of a great organ along the aisles of some vast 

 cathedral. The splendor of the early morning scene may 

 be imagined, but it can not be adequately described. My 

 father reined in to a full stop, and called out : 



"Gentlemen, they are coming up the ravine to the 

 spring. Hold in, or we shall ride over the hounds;'' and 

 immediately shouted "Tally-ho ! " pointing to a spot near 

 the head of the ravine, where Reynard appeared for an 

 instant, and then disappeared in the bushes. It was obvi- 

 ous he had not increased his lead by many yards, as the 

 tremendous cry distinctly showed the hounds were already 

 coming well up the ravine; and my father's marvelous ear 

 must have detected the turn at the very instant it was 

 made. The Fox had now cleared the head of the ravine, 

 and broke away across the open field toward the Broad 

 Rock, in a southeasterly course, toward the far side of the 

 quadrilateral, leaving the water-course entirely. 



"Did you ever see so bold a rascal f said Mr. Jenkins. 



"Aye," responded my father. "I do not understand 

 him, but that is a fatal mistake. Nothing can save his 

 brush to-day but a decree of fate.'' 



The pack by this time had cleared the ravine; the Fox 

 had two hundred yards start, and a mile and a half across 

 the old field to reach cover. Vanity leading, Juno at her 

 flank, the rest closed up; the pace was so tremendous that 

 some of us thought we should run into him before he struck 

 Broad Rock. 



"Hark! away!" shouted my father, touching old Alice 

 gently with the spur; and away we went. The first fence 



