FOX HUNTING IN AMERICA. 259 
to reach his home; the dog is even now within a foot of his 
brush. 
One more desperate leap, and with a sudden snappish 
growl he turns upon his pursuer, and endeavors to defend 
himself with his sharp teeth. For a moment he resists the 
dog, but is almost instantly overcome. He is not killed, how- 
ever, in the first onset; both dog and fox are so fatigued that 
they now sit on their haunches, facing each other, resting, 
panting, their tongues hanging out, and the foam from their 
lips dropping on the snow. 
After fiercely eyeing each other for awhile, both become 
impatient—the former to seize his prey, the other to escape. 
At the first leap of the fox the dog seizes him; with renewed 
vigor he seizes him by the throat, and does not loose his hold 
until the snow is stained with blood, and the fox lies rumpled, 
draggled, with blood-shot eye, and frothy, open mouth, a 
mangled carcase on the ground. 
The hunter soon comes up: he has made several short cuts, 
guided by the baying of his hound; and striking the deep 
trail in the snow again, at a point much nearer the scene of 
the death-struggle, he hurries toward the place where the last 
ery was heard, and pushes forward in a half run until he 
meets his dog, which, on hearing his master approach, gene- 
rally advances towards him, and leads the way to the place 
where he has achieved his victory. 
There are yet more unfair modes of taking this gallant 
animal, known at the North, the very mention of which would 
make the warm blood of a genuine fox-hunter boil over with 
contemptuous indignation. 
The fox is pursued over the snow by one of the scrubby 
mongrels above mentioned, until he is fairly earthed, when 
the sportsman, as he is facetiously called, comes up with 
spade and pick-axe on his shoulder, and after cooly surveying 
the ground, prepares to dig him out. His labor at this season 
is worth something less than a dollar a day, and if he suc- 
