Ernest Bracebridge: School Days

by William Henry Giles Kingston

The hounds kept examining the ledge in every direction, and at a distance they must have looked like a swarm of ants, so busy did they appear. Still without success; and some of the more fainthearted declared that they should have to climb up the cliff again, and find some other way down, or give up the chase.

“No, no, nonsense,” said the huntsman. “There is a way down, and the way must be found.”

I must now go back to describe the progress of the hare and his friend.

I have read of “the hare and many friends,” but they were very unlike young Buttar; no one could desire a stouter or a stauncher friend. Before starting they had well laid their plans, and determined to give the hounds a good run. Ernest had provided himself with a good pocket compass, so that he could steer as direct a course as the ground would allow to the point he had selected to round before turning back towards home.

“Let us go along over the smooth ground at a good pace—we shall save time to spare when we come to the difficult places,” observed Ernest to Buttar, as they were waiting for the Doctor’s signal to start. It was given—and away they went; steady at first, but gradually increasing their speed as they found that they could easily draw breath. They met with no impediments in the way. They easily leaped the brooks they encountered. The old couple in Ashby-lane stared at them, and wondered where they could be going, leaving little bits of paper behind them. Then they came to Ashby-downs: it was hot work toiling up the steep side, with the hot sun striking down on them; but when they got to the summit, a fresh breeze and a clear blue air revived their strength, and they went along merrily, every now and then looking back to try and catch sight of the hounds, judiciously dropping their scent in places where it could be seen, and not blown away by the breeze. They had several points to attend to. They had been especially charged by the Doctor to avoid trespassing on any private ground; they had to select an interesting course, and one not too difficult, at the same time with every possible variety of country.

On they went, making good play over the short smooth turf of the downs. At last they came to the cliff. Buttar was for descending again, and crossing the ravine where it opened into the plain country.

“No, no,” said Ernest, “we shall increase our distance if we can manage to get down the highest part of the cliff. Let us try what we can do before we give it up.”

Down the cliff they began to descend. There were plenty of craggy, rugged spots, which facilitated their descent, but in most places there was only room for one person to descend at a time, so, as in the instance of the stepping-stones, their pursuers had to form in Indian file. They easily reached the ledge. Below it the way was, indeed, difficult. At the very end, however, Ernest observed several points of rock jutting out. By climbing up to them he saw that he could drop down on a broader ledge, well covered with soft turf, and could then descend under the very ledge on which they were standing.

Buttar agreed to make the attempt, feeling certain that Lemon would find that or some other means of overcoming the difficulty.

Ernest clutched the rock, and got along bravely, followed by Buttar. “Take care that you do not sprain your ankle as you drop,” cried the latter, as Ernest prepared to let go so as to descend to the ledge. He reached it in safety. He caught his companion in his arms so as to break his fall, and sprinkling some paper under the long ledge, they pursued their way. Once Buttar had to let down Ernest with their handkerchiefs tied together, while Ernest again caught him. Safely they reached the bottom, and away they went across valleys, over streams, and up hills, never once dreaming of fatigue.