THE LIFE OF A FOX. 55

these well-nosed hounds got on my scent,—there
called “the drag.’ This fine old huntsman be-
lieving that a fox was near, persevered for an
unusual length of time in trying to find one, and
owing to one or two hounds occasionally throwing
their tongues, waited in an agony of expectation.
At length being led to the covert which I had
just left, they soon got on the line which I
had taken when I came from my kennel two
hours before, and which they had great difficulty
in hunting. By this time, I thought it right to
leave the wood, where I had stopped. A man
saw me go away, and hallooed loudly, but still
the hounds were not allowed to be brought on;
and they continued a walking pace until they got
to the spot where I had waited, at the extremity
of the wood, and where, though at some distance,
I heard the cry of the hounds following me too
closely to be despised by me as they had hitherto
been. It seemed that they were left entirely to
themselves, for I heard no men’s voices cheering
them on, as in other countries when running
in the same way. .As they continued without
D 4