124 THE LIFE OF A FOX.

escaped from him, on a good scenting day too, by
taking refuge in the crevice of a rock, after one of
the fastest runs possible for five miles. It began
thus :—One morning early last season, when lying
in a covert, called Bushen Glen, I was startled by
hearing a man riding quickly by. He then sud-
denly stopped, and addressed these few words to
the whipper-in, who brought the hounds.

“ How long have you been here ?”

“ Just come, my lord.”

“1s Mr. Smith here ?”

“ Not yet, my lord.”

“ Well, I never was so thoroughly drenched ;
never rode twenty-four miles in such a deluge;
80, by Jove, I can’t wait. Give me my horse.”

No sooner done, than “Cover hoick!” reached
my astonished ears, and I instantly left my ken-
nel, prepared for a start. In a few minutes, I was
stealing away, and after clearing the wall and run-
ning in the open moor, I passed near the gentle-
man, I suppose, who was expected, and whe, on
seeing me, said not a word. I therefore, thinking

I was unseen, did not turn back to the covert,