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'Hold hard!--pray do!' added he, with
little better success. 'Dim it, gen'lemen, hold hard!' added he, as they
still pressed upon the pack. 'Have a little regard for a huntsman's
raputation,' continued he. 'Remember that it rises and falls with the sport
he shows'--exhortations that seemed to be pretty well lost upon the field,
who began comparing notes as to their respective achievements, enlarging
the leaps and magnifying the distance into double what they had been.
Puffington and some of the fat ones sat gasping and mopping their brows.
Seeing there was not much chance of the hounds hitting off the scent by
themselves, Mr. Bragg began telegraphing with his arm to the whippers-in,
much in the manner of the captain of a Thames steamer to the lad at the
engine, and forthwith they drove the pack on for our swell huntsman to make
his cast. As good luck would have it, Bragg crossed the line of the fox
before he had got half-through his circle, and away the hounds dashed, at a
pace and with a cry that looked very like killing.


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