no HARE-HUNTING AND HARRIERS 



herself, and howled and ran off as the hare jumped 

 up. 



The knowledge that a hare is sinking, and will be 

 soon pulled down, seems intuitive to most seasoned 

 hounds and not a few experienced sportsmen. Towards 

 the end of a hard run the huntsman observes that some 

 of the older hounds, which have hitherto allowed the 

 younger and more excitable of the pack to make play, 

 begin to work to the front ; these hounds are aware that 

 the hare is sinking, and are quietly taking their places 

 for the final scene. The scent of a tired hare often 

 begins to fail a good deal towards the last of a run. 

 I have even heard experts declare that a failing hare 

 leaves no scent behind her, except that from the very 

 tips of her feet as they touch the earth. A huntsman 

 needs to be especially keen and especially careful 

 towards the end of the chase, when the beaten hare, 

 finding that she cannot outstrip her pursuers by speed 

 alone, is twisting, doubling, and playing every con- 

 ceivable prank and device in her well-stocked repertory, 

 with the object of throwing off the pursuit. It is 

 these wonderful devices, this extraordinary fertility of 

 resource, which, to my mind, add so great an interest 

 to the chase of this animal. 



The death is the least pleasant part of the whole 

 business. One can see a fox die unmoved. He is 

 a ruffian and a robber, and he meets the rufifian's 

 doom boldly and becomingly, turning at the last 

 moment to confront the leading hounds with bared 

 teeth, and the grin of death and defiance upon his 

 face. But with the hare it is widely different. The 

 run is enthralling enough ; the death one is glad to 

 get over as speedily as possible. The end is sudden 

 enough, and the sufferings of the hunted hare last 

 but a second or two. Occasionally, especially with 



