THE LIFE OF A FOX. 133

if there are half-a-dozen foxes in this drain; some-
where they must be.”

Then another voice,—“ Well, Will, what do you
think now of Mr. Smith’s foresay, as to its being
a good scenting day?”

“ My lord, he was right; I never, in all my
life, saw the hounds run so fast ;—faster they
could not go.” He suddenly turned towards the
man who ought to have stopped the drain,—
“ Hoot, mon, how is this? The earth’s open at
yer vary ain door?”

“ Will, where ’s the terrier >”

“ Got none, my lord.”

“ Was ever the like? Seventeen years I have
hunted with these hounds, and though every
field in this country is full of drains, they have
never had a terrier that was worth hanging. Jack,
go and fetch the farmer’s terrier; be off like a
shot! How can they expect to save their poultry,
if they do not put gratings to their drains ? With-
out them, it is impossible for hounds to kill their
foxes.”

Having by this time recovered my breath, I