Joe was very glad when the editor told him that he was to go with the fox-hunters and act as master of ceremonies. Fox-hunting was a sport of which he was very fond, for it seemed to combine all the elements of health and pleasure in outdoor life. Shortly after Joe went to the plantation the editor of The Countryman had brought from Hillsborough a hound puppy, which had been sent him by a Mr. Birdsong. This Mr. Birdsong was a celebrated breeder of fox-hounds, having at one time the only pack south of Virginia that could catch a red fox. He was a great admirer of the editor of The Countryman, and he sent him the dog as a gift. In his letter Mr. Birdsong wrote that the puppy had been raised under a gourd-vine, and so the editor called him Jonah. Joe Maxwell thought the name was a very good one, but it turned out that the dog was very much better than his name. The editor gave the dog to Joe, who took great pains in training him. Before Jonah was six months old he had learned to trail a fox-skin, and by the time he was a year old hardly a morning passed that Joe did not drag the skin for the pleasure of seeing Jonah trail it. He developed great speed and powers of scent, and he was not more than two years old before he had run down and caught a red fox, unaided and alone. Naturally, Joe was very proud of Jonah, and he was glad of an opportunity to show off the dog’s hunting qualities.
In training Jonah, Joe had also unwittingly trained an old fox that made his home on the plantation. The fox came to be well known to every hunter in the county. He was old, and tough, and sly. He had been pursued so often that if he heard a dog bark in the early morning hours, or a horn blow, he was up and away. The negroes called him “Old Sandy,” and this was the name he came to be known by. Jonah when a puppy had trailed Old Sandy many a time, and Joe knew all his tricks and turnings. He decided that it would be well to give the young officer’s pack some exercise with this cunning old fox.
All the arrangements for the hunt were made by the editor. Joe Maxwell was to escort Miss Nellie Carter, who, although a Virginian and a good horsewoman, had never ridden across the country after a fox. The lad was to manage so that Miss Carter should see at least as much of the hunt as the young men who were to follow the hounds, while Harbert was to go along to pull down and put up the fences. To Joe this was a new and comical feature of fox-hunting, but the editor said that this would be safer for Miss Carter.
When the morning of the hunt arrived, Joe was ready before any of the guests, as he had intended to be. He wanted to see to everything, much to Harbert’s amusement. Like all boys, he was excited and enthusiastic, and he was very anxious to see the hunt go off successfully. Finally, when all had had a cup of coffee, they mounted their horses and were ready to go.
“Now, then,” said Joe, feeling a little awkward and embarrassed, as he knew that Miss Nellie Carter was looking and listening, “there must be no horn-blowing until after the hunt is over. Of course, you can blow if you want to,” Joe went on, thinking he had heard one of the young men laugh, “but we won’t have much of a hunt. We are going after Old Sandy this morning, and he doesn’t like to hear a horn at all. If we can keep the dogs from barking until we get to the field, so much the better.”
“You must pay attention,” said Miss Carter, as some of the young men were beginning to make sarcastic suggestions. “I want to see a real fox-hunt, and I’m sure it will be better to follow Mr. Maxwell’s advice.”
Joe blushed to here his name pronounced so sweetly, but in the dim twilight of morning his embarrassment could not be seen.
“Are your dogs all here, sir?” he asked the young man who had brought his hounds. “I have counted seven, and mine makes eight.”
“Is yours a rabbit-dog?” the young man asked.
“Oh, he’s very good for rabbits,” replied Joe, irritated by the question.