Hearing a shout, he looked up and saw a man on a bank waving his hat.
“Did you see her, my man?” said he, riding up to him.
“I did, sir, and flinged this pollack at her, and turned her.”
“Was she done up?”
“Not a bit, for when I heaved the fish, she took down along over they rocks there, like a ball of fire. But if you’re going down to the point, you’d better leave hoss and hounds behind. ’Tes no place for they.”
Taking the hint, Sir Tudor left his mare and the hounds in charge of the whipper-in, and casting his eyes right and left as he went in the hope of seeing the hare, made his way to the extremity of the headland.
“What do you call this point?”
“Why, bless thee, I thought every grown man knowed that!”
“Ah!” ejaculated Sir Tudor reflectively. He was moved at learning that he stood at the uttermost verge of the land; for a moment he forgot all about the hare, but only for a moment.