72 THE BEST SEASON ON RECORD. 



a full field back, wlicre a "cattle crossing" runs under 

 the embankment. Thither they hurry at the best speed 

 their panting horses can raise — to find the white railway 

 gate already besieged by another little force, intent upon 

 raising it from its hinges. " One more man ! " roars the 

 colonel, as he and his confederates nearly break their 

 backs in futile effort. Six more men furnish effectual 

 reinforcement ; and the whole struggle up the Tilton 

 hill — to find the pack hovering on the summit, above 

 Large's Spinney. Five miles they have come, as 

 straight as hounds or the crow could fly — the time half 

 an hour, to a minute or so either way. Hitherto it has 

 been a point-to-point steeplechase. Now hounds must 

 hunt round Tilton Village, nearly to Tilton Wood, and 

 up the wooded peak of Colborough Hill. The navvies 

 are at work about Tilton Station close at hand, and 

 already are shouting in wild chorus. But navvies 

 always yell when they see a red coat — so this may only 

 be their playful way of welcoming us. They have cried 

 Fox so often, that now we may well be chary of belief. 

 ]jut this time the fox Is really among them — actually 

 running down the platform and along the metals, with 

 his tongue out, his back up, and his brush dragging low. 

 Haifa dozen hounds bring his line down to the station- 

 but, alas, alas ! the others are away in the opposite 

 direction, running hard on a fresh fox. 



Thus, though the huntsman at length comes back 

 from the borders of Owston Wood, and, in the vain 

 endeavour to pick up his beaten fox, works up to Robin- 

 a-Tiptoe, the end of this great good run is not to be 



