52 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
he was at this desolate spot when he heard the 
distant sound of a horse cantering over the ground. 
The heavy rains had flooded the land, and he heard 
the splash of the hoofs as the horse came towards 
him. “Who could this be out on horseback at 
twelve o’clock on a dark winter night?” he asked 
himself; and listened and waited while the sound 
grew louder and louder and came nearer and 
nearer, and he strained his eyes to see the figure 
of a man on horseback emerging from the gloom, 
and could see nothing. Then it suddenly came into, 
his mind that it was no material horseman, but a 
spirit accustomed to ride at that hour in that place, 
and his hair stood up on his head like the bristles 
on a pig’s back. “It almost lifted my helmet off,” 
he confessed, and he would have fled, but his 
trembling legs refused to move. Then, all at once, 
when he was about to drop, fainting with extreme 
terror, the cause of the sound appeared—an old 
dog badger trotting over the flooded moor, vigor- 
ously pounding the water with his feet, and making 
as much noise as a trotting horse with his hoofs. 
The badger was seven or eight yards away when 
he first caught sight of him, and the badger, too, 
then saw a sublime and terrifying creature stand- 
ing motionless before him, and for a few moments 
they stared at one another; then the badger turned 
aside and vanished into the darkness. 
To return. It was the sight of a fox that set 
me speculating on this subject. I have seen more 
foxes than I can remember, but never one that was 
