fuh. i8. 1899.1 
We had walked some distance in silence, when she 
turned and asked: "You did not really intend to shoot 
that fox ii the dogs had run it by us, did you?" 
Having made it the practice of my life never to lie to 
a lady — when sure of not being believed — I answered : 
"I most assuredly did, unless the brute ran so near that 
he could be killed with a club, and thus save a cartridge."' 
''Well," said she, "you are my guest, and therefore I 
feel in a measure responsible for your personal safety, 
and I now beg of you, as a special favor, that you never 
indulge your inclination to shoot a fox that is being run 
in this country; for as certain as you do the hunters will 
set their dogs on you and ride you down with as little 
compunction as they would the most desperate criminal. 
They would certainly do it, I pledge you my word." 
She was perfectly serious, and afterward led me to 
believe that she was perfectly correct in her ideas as to 
the probable fate that would befall the man who so out- 
raged the proprieties of the fox hunting code. 
My inclination to shoot a running fox never got be- 
yond perfect and complete control while sojourning in 
Virginia. We all have our preferences in the matter of 
.sports. One pursuit will af?ord to one man the greatest 
pleasure and recreation, while it will rank very low in the 
estimation of another, and yet both may be enthusiastic 
and orthodox sportsmen. The best sport to one man 
is quail shooting, when the cover is brown and the air 
brisk. To another it ih duck shooting, when the blind is 
well placed and the flight good. To yet another it i< 
the big game in its almost inaccessible haunts, while 
many men say that the rod alone yields perfect sport. I 
have yet to find any of them that are without their devo- 
tees and champions. Personally, with the exception of 
the so-called sport of prize-fighting and live-bird shoots, 
I think them all goodj but my fondness for fox hunting, 
like the taste for olives, is acquired. 
Talking with Virginia fox hunters soon taught me that 
to them it was indeed the sport par excellence. They 
compared it with no other recreation, claiming that it 
would not admit of comparisons. They lived in the 
hunting season, and only dragged along in weary "en- 
nui" the remainder of the year. To them the cry'of the 
full pack, the clear call of the horn, and the yell of the 
eager hunter, is not merely music, it is a ravishment of 
every sense; a wild, delicious, nerve-thrilling, overpower- 
ing intoxication. You may think you have heard en- 
thusiastic sportsmen of the realistic school thrillingly re- 
count experiences; but you have not, is the position and 
broad assertion of this deponent, unless yau have sat in 
the charmed circle composed of Virginia fox hunters in 
full cry on old, erstwhile hot trails. 
They are a little slow on the start, but they warm up 
steadily, and the finish is hot, red hot. They invariably 
generalize on dogs, horses, characteristic foxes and dif- 
ferent covers; interspersing this with anecdotes and rem- 
iniscences as a starter. Then some one is reminded of 
some especially glorious run, and starts in to tell about 
it. There is no great excitement at the outset. The nar- 
rator sits comfortably tipped back in his chair, with his 
cigar going smoothly, while his auditors are diisposed 
about him in tlie various attitudes that afford the most 
ease and comfort to their various anatomies, and all seem 
calm as a May morning. 
But after the preliminaries are disposed of, and the 
hunt is well on, the chair comes down on all four feet, 
listless eyes begin to glow, every muscle in the narrator's 
body begins a suppressed play, and the whole scene 
changes. Every one of his auditors shift their positions, 
and change expression, and there is a general livening 
up. But it is when he finally reaches the point in his 
story where, half out of his chair, and wholly absorbed, 
he is saying: "I did not make position two seconds ahead 
oL him, although he had been five miles to my three. 
As I jumped the creek at the foot of the hill — iift. from 
bank to bank there, as you know, boys — the mare was 
neck and neck with him, he having crossed 25yds. below. 
As straight as a gun-barrel from tip to tip, he ran as 
though but three minutes, instead of three hours, had 
passed since we had harked off! And old Blue; gentle- 
men, that glorious old hound was 50yds. ahead of the 
pack and running as true, as a die. 
"The other fellows came poundling up as we flew down 
the grassy bottom that stretches clear for nearly a mile, 
and every time they split the atmosphere with their yells 
old Blue and my mare fairly left the ground and took to 
the air. It was the run of their lives, and nothing like it 
has ever been seen. 
"Old Blue was stretched out about 12ft. long, and 
stemed flying just a few inches above the ground, with 
the tip of his nose almost in the brush. The mare never 
lost a foot of ground, and was running hot in his tracks. 
I knew I ought to pull aside and encourage the 
pack, but I wouldn't have the weight of my hand on the 
little mare's bit then for the finest plantation in the State 
of Virginia. It would have broken her heart to be pulled 
in that run, for she had put her whole pedigree in it, and 
was as fresh as paint, in spite of the miles she had 'scat- 
tered behind her that morning. Oh! it was our day, 
boys, old Blue, the mare and I, and we lived life to the 
hilt down that stretch! 
"The pack and the other fellows were just simply not in 
it, and we didn't care if they ran it out or not. 
"We didn't gain an inch on the fox for the first quar- 
ter after crossing the creek, although the old dog was put- 
:ing in every ounce that was in him, and had never been 
outrun m the open since he was old enough to run a 
trail. 
"That was a fox, gentlemen; a runner and a stayer; 
the best that ever wore fur. If it was the last cent of 
money I ever expected to see, I would give a thousand 
dollars an acre for a thousand acres stocked with his 
breed. He was the only one out of one hundred that 
kept his whole hide three seconds on a fair level run with 
old Blue. 
"It was nearly half across the stretch when the old dog 
first touched him, and then he slid from under him three 
times and gained a length every time. If you will believe 
me, gentlemen, I thought he would acttially run clean 
away from Bltte, I honestly did, and was trying to raise 
another notch in the mare's speed to run him down 
jnyself, when the grand old dog made a terrific leap and 
landed fast, and over they went, fox and dog, end over 
end, for 25ft., and brought up with old Blue safe up 
pmnmg down the fox by the throat, and the little mare 
jumped over them both, lighting clear loft. beyond " 
The finish generally finds the narrator on his feet, witli 
the audience in various positions indicating intense ex- 
citement and absorbed interest, and the close is marked 
by a general return to positions of comfort and a resump- 
tion of free respiration. 
Listening to a discussion of horses that had become in- 
ordinately fond of the sport of fox hunting, I heard the 
well-authenticated story of a inare, owned by a gentle- 
man in the neighborhood, that had developed such a fond- 
ness for hunting that she became almost worthless on 
account of her extreme sporting tendencies. In every 
run she was absolutely beyond control from the start 
until the fox was killed. No bit could hold her, and no 
obstacle could cause her to quit the chase. When the 
dogs were gathered or a horn sounded within hearing of 
her stable in the earl^' morning, she could no.t be per- 
suaded nor compelled to eat a mouthful until" after the 
hunt was over, and go she would with or without a 
rider. She had several times broken her halter and 
kicked off boards enough to get out of the stable when 
the dogs ran near by, and once free she was invariably 
"in at the death." 
While being saddled to carry her master to his devo- 
tions one Sabbath morning, the dogs of a neighbor came 
by in full cry after a fox that they had jumped when re- 
leased for a little exercise, and throwing the negro, who 
tried to restrain her, fully isft., she jumped two high 
fences, took her place close up to the pack, and was 
found three hours later by friends of her master fully ten 
miles distant from home, watching the pack worry the 
remains of the fox, which they had caught and killed. 
Her master was finally compelled to send her to a sec- 
tion of the country where fox hunting was not considered 
in the list of sports, but her memory was certainly kept 
green, as he never spoke of her except as one loved and 
lost, but not to beforgotten. 
And so man, horse and dog, the greatest and best of 
the animal kingdom, united tlieir testimony as to the 
high place that fox hunting should occupy in the realms 
of sport; but they only succeeded in convincing the side 
of my intellect subservient to a consensus of expert testi- 
mony. My sporting blood failed to respond to the music 
of the horn, accompanied by the grand chorus of the 
pack, and other sports, all others, I might say, ranked 
above that of the chase of the fox. 
The change in my sentiments regarding this sport was 
both unexpected and sudden; but the immediate result 
indicated that the conversion was genuine and thorough. 
Rising early one morning, I got down stairs just as the 
sun was sending his first rays through the thick trees in 
long, slender bars of gold, on the lawn in front of the 
house. It was a morning that would cause the heart of 
an ingrate to 'fill with silent thanksgiving to the AUwisc 
giver of all the beatttiful and good. Standing in the 
wide, old-fashioned front door, I drank in dee]3 draughts 
of the ozone-laden air, while my eyes reveled in the beauty 
of the frost-whitened grass and brilliant-hued foliage. 
Picking up a target rifle that stood near the door, I 
stepped out, intending to fire a shot at the first target 
to offer. Millie w^as sweeping off the front walk, but 
was doing so in a perfunctory, preoccupied manner that 
indicated other and weightier matters engaging her mind. 
As I approached her she turned and with suppressed ex- 
citement gasped out: 
"Good mawnin', suh. Don't you heah de dogs? Dey 
runnin' a fox, an' comiti' dis way." 
Another devotee of this half-baked sport, I thought, as 
I strolled on down the walk to the gate that led from 
the large yard out into the grove in front. I had heard 
the dogs running something, but had not felt interest 
enough even to speculate on what the quarry might be, 
and did not find my interest deepening very fast, although 
it was evident from the sound that the chase was rapidly 
approaching us. Turning to glance back at the girl, I 
found that she had abandoned her sweeping, and, mount- 
ed upon a rustic seat, was looking in the most excited 
manner for the first appearance of the approaching dogs. 
Having heard that even the negroes showed great ex- 
citement over and interest in fox hunting, and that many 
of them knew all of the dogs that were kept in that part 
of the country, I called to Millie and asked her if she 
Could see the dogs and tell whose pack it was. 
"I can't see um yit, suh," was the reply, "but I know 
dey is Cap'n Brackett's dogs by dey voices. I've heah 
dem run offen, suh." 
I then heard shouts and lo,ud talk down toward the 
stable, mingled with the overseer's rush order for his 
horse, with a sulphurous condition annexed at its non- 
observance, and realized that somebody had warm sport- 
ing blood, even if mine was steadily flowing at normal. 
Just then a window was hastily raised at the house, and 
my hostess called to me: "That is a fox the hounds are 
running, and if you will hurry down and make a boy sad- 
dle you a horse you can have a glorious run; don't wait; 
hurry on at once." 
I thanked her, but assured her that as I was not very 
fond of fox hunting, I would just wait until after break- 
fast, and then, if the fox was still running around close 
to the house and convenient to the roads or open country, 
I would take a hand in the chase. Meanwhile the dogs 
were steadily drawing nearer and coming in a straight 
line up through the grove and toward the house. I con- 
cluded to try to get a good view of the whole affair as 
they ran by, and see if it would quicken my sporting bood 
in the least. Standing in an open space outside the gate, 
I watched for the first appearance of the fox or pack 
over a slight rise in the ground several hundred yards 
distant. The whole forest was ringing with the chorus, 
and the first surprise was that for the first time I could 
think of it as it had so often been described to me by 
over-enthusiasts, as music. It was music, grand and glo- 
rious, I thought; and just then a dark shadow slid over 
the hill and down the gentle -slope toward where I was 
standmg, followed— not by "a pack of hounds," as I had 
mentally concluded— but by '-a glorious aggregation of 
fleet-footed quadruped sportsmen, all singing together 
the grandest burst of music that ever was heard, while 
the sun played in golden waves on their brown, black and 
tan muscle-teeming bodies. 
I felt right then that something had been radically 
wrong with my ideas about fox hunting, and that they 
were about to be wholly and permanently revolution- 
ized. On they came, in a straight course, that would 
bring them within looft. of where I stood, and the sight 
grew an beauty, while the music grew in volume and 
sweetness. The chase had evidently lasted some time, 
and both pursued and pursuers were well spent, but the 
old fox was running gamely, with his brush straight fu 
lee, while the dogs were holding their own in a beauti- 
fully compact mass, and the skeptic that had been in 
front of the gate gave thanks for the grand spectacle 
and doubted no more its title to sport. Instinctively 
moving out nearer the point approached by the fox, I 
was gradually working up excitement that was not antici- 
pated, and therefore not controlled. 1 finally came to 
within a few feet of the fox, who did not swerve a foot 
from his straight course, but ran by me as though his 
weightier contest waged with his enemies in the rear 
prevented his noticing any side issues. Then, finding my- 
self so near the fox, and the grand pack laboring so hard 
in the rear, my new-found enthusiasm burst all bounds, 
and with a yell that nearly split my throat and caused tlie 
fox to jump 2ft. high, I started in on foot to run him 
down or perish in the attempt. I was fairly beside myself 
with excitement, and ran as I never had before. I wati 
conscioxis of a perfect roar of yells from the negroeSi, 
who had all run out to see the fox go by, and were now 
kindly encouraging me, but had the course been Broad- 
way, N. Y., I would have run it just the same in my 
wild, headlong enthusiasm. No audience could have 
abashed, no obstacle (not insurmountable) could have 
stayed me. The many years that I had lived without ap- 
preciating the glorious excitement incident to this sport 
must be atoned for, and my new-found privileges must 
be immedately enjoyed to the limit. 
I had earned a reputation as a sprinter in days gone 
by, and had a record or two, but nothing ever done in 
that line was worth mentioning, compared with the run 
I made in fast company that morning. I thought more 
than once that 1 had the fox in the first looyds., and would 
probably have closed with him in a rough and tumble if 
his exhaustion had been sufficient to permit of my actu- 
ally overtaking him. Straight down through the wooda 
we went, the tired fox leading tue wildly excited, newly 
converted, unduly sanguine enthusiast a close second; 
the tired dogs third, and the hunters — I remember with 
gratitude — not in sight. I do not know how far I ran, 
but when exhaustion compelled me to spare the fox to the 
tender mercies of the dogs, it took me nearly an hour 
to work my way b&ck to the house, counting the time 
that I lay against an old log (that I had run up on after 
the jump was all out of me, and come to grief over), get- 
ting my breath. 
I kept the course that we had come for some distance 
on the return trip, until exhausted by numerous climbs 
over obstacles that I had probably cleared at a bound 
while laboring under the excitement of the chase, and 
then turned out toward the open woods, taking the short- 
est route to the house. I did not walk very fast on the 
return trip, and candor compels me to admit that, ior 
once in my life, I was in no great hurry to come into the 
presence of my hostess. I even felt some diffidence in 
meeting the servants. Nearing the house, my first greet- 
ing was from my solemn young friend "Governor." 
"Did you ketch de ole fox, suh," he called out in thfe 
most excited manner, and seemed much disappointed 
when he found I had not. "Ben" was at the woodpile 
and paused in his work long enotigh to pay me a very 
sincere compliment on my "runnin'," which, he assured 
me, "he sho' was proud to see." 
Aunt Ellen came to the door to see me pass by, and 
her deprecatory smile was the most himiiliating yet en- 
countered. 
My hostess was sitting on the porch when I strolled 
around the house, attempting a nonchalant air. One 
glance at her laughing eyes and preternaturally solemn 
face was enough to convince me that honest confession 
was my best course. "Well," said I, "if I had taken your 
advice and waited for a mount I should probably have 
stayed in tire chase longer, but had less exercise." 
"Y''ou surely did not let the fox get away, did you?" 
she asked. 
"Most emphatically, I did not 'let the fox get away.' 
On the contrary, I did everything short of killing my- 
self to prevent his doing so." 
"Has this moderate indulgence in the sport changed- or 
modified your views any regarding fox hunting?" she 
innocently inquired. 
"If you will allow me to sit down here on 'the steps 
and recover sufficiently from the eft'ects of my so-called 
moderate indulgence to be able to express myself in- 
telligibly, I promise you that I will, so far as cold words 
can do so, candidly tell you what I think now of the 
grand and glorious sport, the sport that excels all other 
sports as the noonday sun excels the gloom of night, the 
sport par excellence — fox hunting." 
"Good!" she cried, springing to her feet. "You are 
now orthodox, and we will adopt you as a Knight of the 
Old Dominion. Sit down, and enjoy your well-earned 
rest while I go and order breakfast served." 
I have not "back-slidden" in the faith, but since that 
morning I try to curb my impatience until a horse is 
ready when a fox hunt is on, and so far have always 
succeeded. Lewis Hopkins. 
Yukon Notes. 
Happenings in December — ^First Sledding Experience. 
Our shipwreck in the ice jam killed our chance of 
getting through to Dawson. At first Mac and I could 
not bring ourselves to believe the gloomy certaintv, and 
we made a start, sledding our supplies down river. While 
waiting for the river to close we had constructed a sled 
of spruce, with birch runners, and the Colorado miners 
had given us, another very strong one built of oak ami 
iron shod. With the two sleds, each loaded with a cou- 
ple of hundred pounds of bedding and supplies, we set 
out Nov. 22 for the island where our lost boats had 
stranded. We expected to cover the distance, which was 
a little more than six miles, in about three hours, but 
very soon we realized that we should not be able to do it. 
The sleds had an annoying habit of upsetting every few' 
minutes, and they pulled so hard that we were soon in A 
profuse perspiration, despite a temperature of 26 below 
zero. 
The first part of tSur* route lay over an Indian trapping 
trail, which we had chosen as being smoother than the 
piled up surface of the river.' We saw where a wolf had 
gotten into one of the traps and pulled out the first leap 
