THE BRITISH MARTEN. 407 



the valley below, and was re-echoed again and again from the rugged 

 sides of Scawfell and the adjoining heights. The object of our early 

 start now became manifest ; the knowing ones proclaimed that it was 

 a Mart which we were in pursuit of, and that we were probably close 

 upon it, having no doubt taken it unawares before it had returned home 

 from its nocturnal rambles. The hunting now commenced in earnest 

 — no easy galloping over well-kept pastures, no awaiting one's turn to 

 pass through a crowded gate or well-worn gap, no convenient check at 

 a pleasant covert side, but downright hard work, not unaccompanied 

 with the spice of danger — at one time clambering on hands and feet 

 up a perpendicular precipice, at another crawling through a narrow 

 crevice between two high boulders ; now running across a sea of stones, 

 which give way at every step and render it impossible even to think of 

 standing still ; now stepping from ledge to ledge, and trusting one's 

 life to the sturdy alpenstock with which each one has armed himself 

 before setting out. The hounds meantime are clambering up with an 

 agility which would astonish their relations further south, resembiing 

 a party of squirrels rather than members of the canine race, as they 

 vie with one another in their anxiety to be to the fore. 



" About an hour of this sort of work brought us to what was, com- 

 paratively speaking, level ground, and here we for the first time met 

 with a check. The Mart had considered discretion the better part of 

 valour, and had taken refuge in a deep crevice in the face of a rock. 

 As the efforts of the terriers were of no avail, artificial means were now 

 brought into requisition in order to dislodge the varmint. We all set 

 to work to collect as much grass as the locality afforded; the huntsman 

 produced from his capacious pockets a box of matches, a little gun- 

 powder, and an old newspaper, and in a few minutes a fire which con- 

 sisted of smoke rather than flame was burning as far down the crevice 

 as the fuel could be thrust. We had not long to wait. All stood back, 

 and in less than three minutes a long dark object was seen scampering 

 over the rocks above our heads, having escaped out of a hole a little 

 distance off. Away we went again, both hounds and men more excited 

 than ever, leaping from crag to crag, and performing acrobatic feats 

 from which anyone would have shrunk in cold blood. The ground now 

 became of a rather less difficult nature, and we were able, without 

 imminent danger of destruction, to take a glance at the surrounding 

 scenery. The rising sun had dispelled the mist, and the atmosphere 

 had by this time become quite clear, though a few clouds hung on the 

 summit of the higher peaks. From our elevated station we looked 

 across to the rugged face of the Screes, one of the grandest hills in the 

 district. Beneath us Wastwater lay like a duck pond, the cultivated 



