For fifteen minutes we flew along at our best pace, over a country, without even a bush strong enough to hold him. The scent being breast high, we cut out some of the sharpest work for the best and boldest to ride to us.
“His point’s the main earth at the Curby brake,” said Trimbush; “but old ‘fox-fix’ has been there with his spade and pickaxe, I’ll be bound.”
The cover spoken of by my companion was quickly gained, and on the slope of a steep bank, thickly twined with the stubborn roots of some neighbouring oaks, we ran straight to the mouth of a closed earth.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Trimbush, “I said so. If he had poked his nose underground here, they might have dug for a week to no purpose.”
We now carried it through the brake, and, sinking some rising ground, entered Bushford Woodlands. Here the small enclosures and thick fences began to tell both upon us and the field, and instead of carrying a head in one close and compact body, many began to tail and string in the rear. As near as I can guess we had ran ten miles from the find without the check of a moment, when we threw up at a gate leading into a road. We flew over it, and saw an old woman with a red cloak on, screaming most lustily; but whether from fright or joy I could not discover.
To the left we went, but not making it out, turned short to the right, when Will blowing a “come-to-me,” off we swept to the summons.
“I saw it, sir,” I heard the woman shriek; “I saw it, sir, as plain as the nose on your face, jump over the gate and then jump back again. And it’s put me all in such a twitter that——”
A twang, twang, from the horn, drowned the conclusion of the old woman’s delivery, and, trying back, we were quickly on his line again, and making play at topping speed.
“I thought,” observed Trimbush, “that the old woman had headed him; but it doesn’t do for us to try back until we have made our casts good, right and left. It is quite correct for a huntsman to do so if he learns from any cause that the fox has been headed; but we should not speculate upon chances or accidents.”
We now carried it over some deep fallows, and, being very dry and flying, we had to pick through with great care. It was remarkable to see the difference between the old steady hounds and the young and eager ones in these difficulties. With their noses on the ground, the pilots of the pack felt for the scent, here and there and held it forward with patience and perseverance, while the too ardent and flashy ones dashed in all directions, with as much notion of the line of the fox, as that of the rook flying over their heads. After picking through the ploughs we were enabled to up with our heads again, cluster, and go full swing over some small grass fields to a village road, where unfortunately, some dung had been recently carted, and the horrid smell made me feel ready to vomit. Trimbush felt along the road a considerable distance, as it was down wind, before he was satisfied that this was not his line, and then turning up, made about as wide a cast, but to no purpose.