CHAPTER V 



FIRST BLOOD 



** With silence lead thy many -coloured hounds 



In all their beauty's pride. See how they range 



Dispersed, how busily this way and that 

 They cross, examining with curious nose 



Each likely haunt.'''' — Somervile. 



OUR next venture was more successful. There 

 I had been a week of warm dewy nights and 

 sunny days ; just the sort of weather to 

 make foxes lie out ; and we were at work at day- 

 break with eighteen and a half couple drawing the 

 open. We had tried through some bracken beds 

 and dry mosses before going on to run hounds 

 through the peat hags on higher ground, when Jack 

 pointed upwards with his whip. Old Peter Amos 

 stood on a hilltop, one arm swinging like a flail in 

 full action, his cap held high on the point of his 

 stick with the other, but quite silent — he knew more 

 than to shout. We climbed up towards him, and 

 seemingly before we were within hailing distance he 

 shouted down the hillside with a voice that would 

 have pierced a snowdrift: "Auld Tweed cam til a 

 deid sett at a heather buss and begood t' girn, an' 

 whan A gaed forrit a muckle foax lap up an' made 

 for the heichts by the Blue Cairn. That was off 

 an' on toonty meenits sin'," he bellowed. We took 



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