Accordingly, Slarkey went, but the old cripple having mounted the rafters,
Slarkey didn't see him, or rather seeing but one fox, he clutched him, with
a greater regard to his not biting him than to seeing how many legs he had;
consequently he bagged an uncommonly fine old dog fox, that Wiley Tom had
just stolen from Lord Scamperdale's new cover at Faggotfurze; and it was
not until Slarkey put him down among the bushes, and saw how lively he
went, that he found out his mistake. However, there was no help for it,
and he had just time to pocket the bag when Watchorn's half-drunken cheer,
and the reverberating cracks of ponderous whips on either side of the Dean,
announced the approach of the pack.
'He-leu in there!' cried Watchorn to the hounds. ''Ord, dommee, but it's
slippy,' said he to himself. 'Have at him. Plunderer, good dog! I wish I
may be Cardinal Wiseman for comin',' added he, seeing how his breath showed
on the air. 'Ho-o-i-cks! p_a_sh 'im hup! I'll be dashed if I shan't be
down!' exclaimed he, as his horse slid a long slide.
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