434 
FOREST AND STREAM 
August, 1920 
FOX HOUNDS AND A NOTABLE HUNT 
BIRD DOG AND BEAGLE FANCIERS ARE USUALLY YOUNG MEN BUT THE FOX HUNTER 
GENERALLY REACHES THE LATE THIRTIES BEFORE BECOMING A FOX HOUND ENTHUSIAST 
By F. S. STREEVER 
1 HAVE several fox hound men friends 
to whom I listen when I must and 
talk to when I can for as long as we 
have strength to endure; some of them 
write me letters too and they are always 
interesting and refreshing in their views 
on hounds and men. 
Bird hunters, beagle men, fishermen 
and trap shooters are often young men, 
but the fox hunter, who has usually been 
one and sometimes all the foregoing, 
generally reaches the late thirties be- 
fore becoming a fox-hound enthusiast. 
It is a sort of inner circle where none 
save sportsmen of ripened judgment 
sit and very likely they are a little 
self-sufficient. Once in a while the sur- 
mise that someone will sell me a better 
hound than I own comes true; just often 
enough so that the “trying out” of a 
new hound is looked forward to with 
anticipation. 
And so, when on a certain February 
day, a big rugged Pennsylvania hound 
was uncrated and taken into the house 
to become better acquainted, he was 
looked over pretty carefully. 
He had the look of a hard driver and 
his body had several old scars and wire 
cuts. Looking at his eyes in a darkened 
corner there seemed to be a crackle in 
one pupil such as is sometimes caused 
by a hound ramming into objects head 
on in a desperate 
race. Also he was 
very homesick. 
(‘A LD boy,” 
said I, 
“you’ll never do. 
If I was out of 
hounds, maybe, 
but you’ve taken 
things pretty 
hard and it’ll be 
quite a while 
before you are 
over your home- 
sickness. You 
are going to 
be in pretty stiff 
company with 
those young 
devils in the ken- 
nel and you will 
have to prove 
that you are much 
better than you 
look to stay 
here with them.” 
A DAY or so later a driving blizzard 
covered fields and buried fences 
beneath great drifts. Father 
hooked Dan, the old bay horse, to our 
“fox hunting bobsleigh” and we started 
to try out our new dog whom we will 
call Sport for want of a better name. 
Reuben, father and I were the directors 
of the hunt. Guns, lunches, snow shoes 
lay in the sleigh box and in the dog 
houses on board the sleigh were Sport, 
the old veteran referred to, Stutz, a 
two-year-old hound of fair speed and a 
hard worker, and Wash, then twenty 
months old. 
Just as we slid out of town we met an 
acquaintance coming in from the coun- 
try. “Hey,” said he, “I saw a big fox 
in the field the other side of Vibbards 
Corners just now.” 
That was pretty good news and we 
warmed the old horse up a little, crowd- 
ing him through the drifts which were 
still soft enough to be rather hard sled- 
ding for the faithful animal. 
Sure ’nough when we arrived at the 
crossing mentioned there was a big dog- 
fox’s track headed north toward Court 
House Hill. 
I was given twenty minutes to get 
over on the east stone pile while Reuben 
took Sport out to wait until time was up 
and the boss drove on around to the west 
so as to guard the crossing at that point. 
It was rather heavy going on snow 
shoes and I was thoroughly warmed up 
when I reached the stone pile. 
People who stand waiting to begin a 
hunt seldom underestimate the time and 
I knew all that Reuben allowed would be 
needed, but there was a hitch somewhere. 
It seemed that Sport didn’t care for fresh 
fox tracks in the snow. Possibly this 
track wasn’t of the fox our friend had 
seen, so Reuben hailed the boss and got 
him back and they took Stutz out to test 
the track. He tore off over the white fields 
to find the other end of the trail, every 
now and then plunging in out of sight in 
a soft spot in the snow and then lobbing 
on again, but making good headway. 
Sport, after a moment’s indecision, de- 
cided to go along with Stutz and it was 
in that order I saw them when they 
went over Court House Hill. Stutz was 
talking pretty loudly but the veteran 
wasn’t interested much and in five min- 
utes after they had disappeared, back 
came a big dog-fox right in their tracks 
and turned westward toward the cross- 
ing father was to watch, but of course 
he hadn’t quite got there yet. 
Then back came the hounds, Sport 
talking now in great shouts and the snow 
flying as Stutz tried to keep his end up 
and make more 
noise than Sport. 
Away went the 
procession for Hop 
City, leaving a 
trail of snow wal- 
lows behind the 
hounds while Mr. 
Fox gaily sailed 
over the drifts 
at great speed 
without breaking 
through them. 
I trudged over 
and father put on 
his snowshoes and 
after tying Dan to 
a fence post we 
went up on the 
ridge and imme- 
diately we heard 
Stutz; apparently 
he was coming 
back. We had bare- 
ly time to separate 
before a big red 
fox came out of 
Tango (left). No. 2200 A F B S B, Vol. IV, and Champion Wash (right). 
No. 277564, Vol. vyyvji A K C 
