The Foxhound. 79 



part. To the right they swing wide — a twenty acre 

 •cast. To the left they swing back, making good 

 their ground in a longer sweep still. Then up go 

 their heads as they gallop back — every old hound in 

 the field knowing to a yard the spot where last the 

 line was felt. Sit still, Jim, sit still! They haven't 

 half done. Your talent is not wanted yet awhile. 

 Old Nabob and Ravishc^r are already feathering 

 forward. Out ring their tocsin notes. Ye'et, old 

 fellows, well done. They have the situation in a 

 moment ; they dash past the crowded flock ; gain 

 the unfoiled ground, and the scent in full power, as 

 they reach the fence — and the glad pursuit goes on 

 as merrily as before. 



'' But the dash of the earlier minutes has sobered 

 down. Their fox has made all use of the moment's 

 breathing time to put further distance between 

 himself and those terrible voices. Travelling down 

 wind — as ninety-nine times out of a hundred he will 

 when pressed — he finds the clamour of pursuit 

 growing fainter ; and now, though sorely strained- — 

 almost burst, as the term goes — by his first efforts, 

 he has time to pull himself together, and carefully to 

 avoid any sign of danger in his path. Thus he 

 sheers off from a plough team, w^hisks aside from a 

 hedgecutter, and doubles for his life from a sheep- 

 dog. Now it becomes a question on the part of 



