Meantime our beaters were not
idle--their stirring shouts, serving alike to animate the hounds, and to
force the deer to water, made rock and wood reply in cheery echoes; but,
to my wonder, I caught not for a long time one note of Harry's gladsome
voice.
At length, as I strained my eyes against the broad hill-side, gilt by
the rays of the declining sun, I caught a glimpse of his form running at
a tremendous pace, bounding over stock and stone, and plunging through
dense thickets, on a portion of the declivity where the tall trees had a
few years before been destroyed by accidental fire.
At this moment the hounds were running, to judge from their tongues,
parallel to the lake and to the line which he was running--the next
minute, with a redoubled clamor, they turned directly down to him. I
lost sight of him. But half a minute afterward, the sharp crack of his
rifle again rang upon the air, followed by a triumphant "Whoop!
who-whoop!" and then, I knew, another stag had fallen.
The beaters on the hill shouted again louder and louder than before--and
the hounds still raved on. By heaven! but there must be a herd of them
a-foot! And now the pack divides! The English hounds are bringing their
game down--here--by the Lord! just here--right in our very faces! The
Southrons have borne away over the shoulder of the hill, still running
hot and hard in Jolly Tom's direction.
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