"A second fox, by the living Jingo!" whispered Larry, thrilling to
that sight that never fails to thrill.
He held up his hat. Bill saw the signal, and acknowledged it by
redoubled efforts to get the hounds away with the fox that had broken
to the east. The chorus of sound grew and grew, and as Joker and his
rider, tense with an equal excitement, listened, it became plain that
the cry was drawing nearer to them. Joker's sensitive ears were
twitching, his heart thumped; the storm of sound was just below them
now, and then, hound by hound, Larry counted them as they came,
fourteen couples struggled up over the lip of the glen where that
brown feather had so lightly lifted into view, and drove ahead, on the
way it had gone, with a rush and a cry that Larry could no more have
checked than he could have stemmed and driven back the wild stream in
the glen below.
It may be said at once that he made no such futile effort. With a
single glance at the frenzied party on the farther side, already
galloping distractedly for a possible pass lower down the glen, Larry
released his feelings in a maniac howl to the fleeting pack, and let
Joker--who had already stood up on his hind legs twice, in legitimate
protest--follow them.
The fox, having begun by running west, away from the glen, had then
turned right-handed, and was heading north over the mountain whose
lower slopes were cleft by Gloun Kieraun.
Pages:
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384