2 6o The Course, the Camp, the Chase 



stopped, however, and the fox allowed to escape. On 

 another occasion we were running a fox along the river 

 bank in the direction of Widdington Wood, when the 

 white fox was seen coming in the opposite direction, and 

 very puzzled were the field as to what it was. Some at 

 first thought it was a shepherd's dog, others a white 

 terrier, but it was soon recognised to be the famous 

 fox. His end was rather accidental. Towards the end 

 of a season's cub-hunting a fox was found at Lylands, 

 when there were only a few people out, and no one saw 

 it go away. There was a splendid scent, and the leading 

 couples were half a field away, racing at their very best 

 pace, as Sir Charles, Orvis, and two or three more, came 

 out of the wood and galloped their best to catch the 

 flying pack. 



Over the Moor Farm they swept, across the Moor 

 Lane, past Grass Gill, with its haunted well, leaving High 

 Dunsforth to the right, and down to the river bank, from 

 which point Sir Charles and I were alone left to follow 

 the hounds, whom we had never yet actually reached, 

 though we were still in the same field with them. 

 Without the least check we raced over the grass pastures 

 alongside the river, the fox and pack passing under the 

 arches of Aldwark Bridge, while we galloped through the 

 yard of the Anchor Inn, which was fortunately close by. 

 Hawthorn Bank is just one short grass field beyond, and 

 into it went the pack with unabated pace, but threw up 

 before they had gone fifty yards into the wood. " Keep 

 still," exclaimed Sir Charles to me, " he's blown, and must 

 be lying down close to the hedge," and he blew his horn 

 to get the hounds back. They began to jump up among 

 some high docks, like a terrier after a rabbit in a turnip 



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