It was not very hard riding, although Mr Evergreen seemed to think it so; but as he was mounted on a fast horse, he, in spite of himself, kept well ahead of most of the field. Cousin Giles and the Count rode alongside each other, and the two Markhams kept together.
They had not gone far when another fox showed his nose out of the wood, apparently to learn what was going forward, and a few of the dogs instantly made chase after him, while the huntsmen followed the main body.
“Tally ho!” shouted Fred Markham. “Harry, let us have a hunt of our own. It will be fine fun to bring home a brush which we have got all by ourselves.”
“Capital fun,” answered Harry; and boy-like, thought less of the consequences, away they galloped after the four or five dogs which had separated themselves from the chase. No one followed. The fox led them directly into the wood. He was a knowing old fellow, and was aware that they would thus have the greatest difficulty in overtaking him. Deeper and deeper they got into the forest, but the dogs had still the scent of the old fox.
“I wish that we could kill a deer now,” exclaimed Harry. “That would be something to boast of.”
“Or a wolf, rather,” cried Fred. “That is nobler game, for he shows more fight.”
“Yes, I should like to fall in with a wolf,” responded his brother. “But I say, Fred, how are we to kill him if we find him?”
“Knock him on the head with the butt end of our whip! That is what he deserves, at all events.”
“Easier said than done,” observed Harry. “However, I’ll stick by you, don’t fear, if we should find one of the rascals. I shall ever hate a wolf after the story we heard the other night.”
Thus talking, the lads galloped on. Suddenly a deer started up from an open glade which lay before them. They looked round for the old fox—he was nowhere to be seen, and the dogs appeared to have lost the scent. However, as soon as the deer began to run they followed, evidently not at all particular as to what they had to pursue.