542 BIG GAME OP NORTH AMERICA. 



always -with him, followed by his son William, nearly 

 my age; so that this latter young gentleman and myself 

 fell into a natural companionship. The other gentlemen 

 rode to suit themselves, but recognized my father' s leader- 

 ship of the hunt, as a matter of course. My mount was 

 a beautiful, thorough-bred, bay filly, coming five years 

 old, which was my saddle-mare for many years. She was 

 a delightful goer and jumper, and safe even for a lady. Old 

 Alice was a mare of extraordinary power and speed, seven- 

 eighths bred; a daughter of Grigsby's Potomac, her dam a 

 daughter of that good horse Hyder Ali. I still own some 

 of the descendants of that great mare. She was killed 

 by lightning, with a splendid foal at her side, when twenty 

 years old — long after this memorable chase. The Jenkinses 

 were well mounted on horses that had outlasted many and 

 many a hard day's run, and the other gentlemen of the 

 hunt were all well mounted. 



As the cry came abreast of us, some three hundred yards 

 to the left, we again gave our horses rein, and were going at 

 full speed along the road, having the short lines on the 

 pack; but their pace was tremendous. 



Coming up on the hill above the ford of Beaver Dam, we 

 paused again for the chase to develop; but only for a 

 moment, when Reynard bounded clear into the middle of 

 the road on the far side of the stream, and broke away 

 down the road right through the village of Mount Hope, 

 and leading the pack three hundred yards. We held our 

 positions until the hounds had passed. They came with 

 incredible speed, considering the ground, Vanity leading 

 easily, and went down the road at a terrible pace. 



As soon as the hounds had cleared the fence, my father 

 rode forward, followed by the hunters, all closed up, and 

 we were soon going again at speed. The race led along 

 the road about a mile, when Reynard took to some rocky 

 woodland on the right, and it seemed he might break away 

 for Negro Mountain. Hesitating a moment as to our 

 course, "Tally-ho!" from the venerable huntsman, Mr. 

 John Macamblin, who had reinforced the pack with a 



