Either fled to Paulus Hoek, where the Briton yet commanded,
Or his stamping-ground forsook, waiting till the hunt disbanded.
So they stopped pursuit at length, and returned to toil securely—
It was useless wasting strength on a purpose baffled surely;
But the two Van Valens swore, in a patriotic rapture,
They would never give it o’er till they’d either kill or capture
Jack, the Regular.
Long they hunted through the wood, long they slept upon the hill-side;
In the forest sought their food, drank when thirsty at the rill-side;
No exposure counted hard—theirs was hunting border fashion;