nOKSES AND HOUNDS. 237 



t'other end — how hur did go — 'twere like a greyhound coursing 

 a hare." " Well," I said, " why did you not run up and kill the 

 stoat as well f " Wait a bit, sur," said the man, with a know- 

 ing look, " Mr. Stoat don't do I any harm, and I'm a thinking 

 he aint the worst friend I've got in the world by a good deal — 

 this ba'ant the first rabbit I have had by 'un, but I wur a little 

 too quick upon 'un t'other day." " How so f " Why, I seed 

 'un running down a rabbit as usual, when I runs u]) and cries 

 halves rather too quick like, for !Mr. Stoat bolts off one way, and 

 the rabbit t'other." 



This brings me back to the point from which I have been as 

 usual digressing, with my " Will Careless" sort of rambling 

 propensities, which, as Mr. De Ville said, are strongly developed 

 on my unfortunate cranium. Now, then, for Mr. Wiley's moon- 

 light excursions in search of a supper. On one point I am 

 tolerably well convinced — that he does not kill his game by 

 running or hunting it down. Mr. Wiley takes things rather 

 more coolly, and in his proceedings exhibits unmistakeable 

 traits of the artful dodger. Silently and stealthily emerging 

 from the wood hedge, he sits up, as a man would in his easy 

 chair, and first puts on his considering cap. Before him, scat- 

 tered over the field, rabbits and hares are feeding, in happy 

 ignorance of their wily foe's propinquity. His plans are soon 

 laid, and, having fixed upon the victim best suited to his taste, 

 he thus proceeds : he creeps slowly forward, with his body 

 crouching to the ground towards his prey. If the rabbit is 

 startled, it raises itself on its hind legs and looks around — the 

 fox is instantly on the ground, lying as still as death. Again 

 the rabbit feeds ; again with slow and silent steps, still crouch- 

 ing, his crafty foe approaclies. The rabbit starts, and stamps 

 on the ground. The fox instantly raises himself erect — that 

 form and eye once seen, the wretched rabbit quails beneath 

 them, and tries to hide himself by lying close to the earth. It 

 is enough — Mr. Wiley now knows his victim is secure — creeping 

 forward again in a crouching manner, he slowly nears his 

 frightened prey, and when within a few paces, suddenly raising 

 himself, makes his fatal spring. 



When a fox runs up wind, he has generally some object in 

 view, either a head of earths, a drain, or some favourite covert, 

 and he will make every eflort to gain it. He does not turn 

 down wind from any knowledge that the scent is less, but 

 because the jn^essure from without is less with the wind than 

 against it. With the wind behind him, he can judge also of 

 the distance between himself and his pursuers. When the pack 

 are far behind, a fox often loiters by the way, jogging leisurely 



