the horses like it; and there's no doubt the men like it--and who knows
whether the fox doesn't like it too?" But I would not have introduced the
subject except for the sake of what my reader will find in the course of a
page or two, and which assuredly is not fox-hunting.

We soon found. But just before, a sudden heavy noise, coming apparently
from a considerable distance, made one or two of the company say, with
passing curiosity: "What is that?" It was instantly forgotten, however, as
soon as the fox broke cover. He pointed towards Purley-bridge. We had
followed for some distance, circumstances permitting Hop o' my Thumb to
keep in the wake of his master, when the colonel, drawing rein, allowed
me--I ought to say _us_, for the old horse had quite as much voice in the
matter as I had--to come up with him.

"The cunning old dog!" said he. "He has run straight for the deepest
cutting in the railway. They'll all be pounded presently! They don't know
this part so well as I do. I know every field and gate in it. I used to go
larking over it all when I was only a cub myself. Confound it! I'm not up
to much to-day. I suppose I'm getting old, you know; or I'd strike off
here at right angles to the left, and make for the bridge at Crumple's
Corner. I should lose the hounds though, I fear. I wonder what his
lordship will do."

All the time my old friend was talking, we were following the rest of the
field, whom, sure enough, as soon as we got into the next inclosure, we
saw drawing up one after another on the top of the railway cutting, which
ran like the river of death between them and the fox-hunter's paradise.
But at the moment we entered this field, whom should we see approaching us
at right angles, from the direction of Purleybridge, but Harry Armstrong,
mounted on _the_ mare! I rode towards him.