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“It’s that mad old Major and his dogs!” exclaimed Mrs. Kidwell, catching up the child lest its red petticoat might scare away the visitor, and popping into the dairy, she saw the hare, after a little demur, hobble into the cow-house. Having seen her well in, Mrs. Kidwell emerged from her hiding-place, and locking the door, she put the key in her pocket, and resumed her occupation with her churn. Presently the familiar melody—the yow, yow, yap, yap, yow, yow of the hounds broke upon her ear, increasing in strength as she listened, making her feel glad she was at hand to befriend the poor hare.
The hunt was indeed revived. The hounds, one and all, having declared their inability to make any thing more of it.
Solomon had set off on one of his cruises, which resulted in the yeomen prickers and he meeting at the gate, where the hare had squatted, when Lovely gave tongue, just as Springer, with his eyes well down, exclaimed, “here she’s!” Bustler, and Bracelet, and Twister, and Chaunter, confirmed Lovely’s opinion, and away they went with the feeble scent peculiar to the sinking animal. Their difficulties are further increased by the sheep, it requiring Solomon’s oft-raised hand to prevent the hounds being hurried over the line—as it is, the hunt was conducted on the silent system for some little distance. The pace rather improved after they got clear of the smear and foil of the muttons, and the Major pulled up his gills, felt his tie, and cocked his hat jauntily, as the hounds pointed for the pretty farm-house, the Major thinking to show off to advantage before Mrs. Kidwell. They presently carried the scent up to the still open gates of the fold-yard. Lovely now proclaims where puss has paused. Things look very critical.
“Good mornin’, Mrs. Kidwell,” exclaimed the gallant Major, addressing her; “pray how long have you been at the churn?”
“O, this twenty minutes or more, Major,” replied Mrs. Kidwell, gaily.
“You haven’t got the hare in it, have you?” asked he.
“Not that I know of; but you can look if you like,” replied Mrs. Kidwell, colouring slightly.
“Why, no; we’ll take your word for it,” rejoined the Major gallantly. “Must be on, Solomon; must be on,” said he—nodding his huntsman to proceed.