46 THE LIFE OF A FOX.

not stop to hunt a country, where the scent
was so soon entirely lost; and that, until this
occurred, nothing in the world would have made
him believe that any fox could have run straight
away from such a pack as his, under such ap-
parently favourable circumstances.

I remained till the following season in this
part of the country, in a covert belonging to
Sir J. Jervoise, called the Markwells, when I
was first roused from my slumber by the voice
of another huntsman, Mr. Smith, who at that
time hunted his own hounds, known as the
Hambledon pack. It was about one o’clock in
the afternoon, in the month of December, and
fortunately I prepared myself for a day’s work,
for sure enough I had it. When I first broke
cover, I took the open, and in running had
the wind in my face for about two miles,
then finding the new pack pressing close to
my heels, I turned short back with the wind,
which most fortunately, as it appeared to me, was
now blowing in a direction straight to a large
earth that I had formerly discovered at Grafham