Part 14 (1/2)

He ran the slope towards Morton Tew That the heave of the hill might stop the view, Then he doubled down to the Blood Brook red, And swerved upstream in the brook's deep bed.

He splashed the shallows, he swam the deeps, He crept by banks as a moorhen creeps, He heard the hounds shoot over his line, And go on, on, on towards Cheddesdon Zine.

In the minute's peace he could slacken speed, The ease from the strain was sweet indeed.

Cool to the pads the water flowed, He reached the bridge on the Cheddesdon road.

As he came to light from the culvert dim, Two boys on the bridge looked down on him; They were young Bill Ripple and Harry Meun, ”Look, there be squirrel, a-swimmin', see 'un.”

”Noa, ben't a squirrel, be fox, be fox.

Now, Hal, get pebble, we'll give en socks.”

”Get pebble, Billy, dub un a plaster; There's for thy belly, I'll learn ee, master.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: He raced from brook in a burst of s.h.i.+es]

The stones splashed spray in the fox's eyes, He raced from brook in a burst of s.h.i.+es, He ran for the reeds in the withy car, Where the dead flags shake and the wild-duck are.

He pushed through the reeds which cracked at his pa.s.sing, To the High Clench Water, a grey pool gla.s.sing, He heard Bill Ripple in Cheddesdon road Shout, ”This way, huntsman, it's here he goed.”

THE LIFTING HORN

The Leu Leu Leu went the soft horn's laughter, The hounds (they had checked) came romping after, The clop of the hooves on the road was plain, Then the crackle of reeds, then cries again.

A whimpering first, then Robin's cheer, Then the Ai Ai Ai; they were all too near; His swerve had brought but a minute's rest, Now he ran again, and he ran his best.

With a crackle of dead dry stalks of reed The hounds came romping at topmost speed, The redcoats ducked as the great hooves skittered The Blood Brook's shallows to sheets that glittered; With a cracking whip and a ”Hoik, Hoik, Hoik, Forrard,” Tom galloped. Bob shouted ”Yoick.”

Like a running fire the dead reeds crackled The hounds' heads lifted, their necks were hackled.

Tom cried to Bob as they thundered through, ”He is running short, we shall kill at Tew.”

Bob cried to Tom as they rode in team, ”I was sure, that time, that he turned up-stream.

As the hounds went over the brook in stride, I saw old Daffodil fling to side, So I guessed at once, when they checked beyond.”

The ducks flew up from the Morton Pond.

The fox looked up at their tailing strings, He wished (perhaps) that a fox had wings.

Wings with his friends in a great V straining The autumn sky when the moon is gaining; For better the grey sky's solitude, Than to be two miles from the Mourne End Wood With the hounds behind, clean-trained to run, And your strength half spent and your breath half done.

Better the reeds and the sky and water Than that hopeless pad from a certain slaughter.

At the Morton Pond the fields began, Long Tew's green meadows; he ran; he ran.

[Ill.u.s.tration: With a cracking whip and a ”Hoik, Hoik, Hoik, Forrard,” Tom galloped. Bob shouted ”Yoick.”]

First the six green fields that make a mile, With the lip-full Clench at the side the while, With the rooks above, slow-circling, shewing The world of men where a fox was going; The fields all empty, dead gra.s.s, bare hedges, And the brook's bright gleam in the dark of sedges.

To all things else he was dumb and blind, He ran, with the hounds a field behind.

MOURNE END WOOD

At the sixth green field came the long slow climb, To the Mourne End Wood as old as time Yew woods dark, where they cut for bows, Oak woods green with the mistletoes, Dark woods evil, but burrowed deep With a brock's earth strong, where a fox might sleep.

He saw his point on the heaving hill, He had failing flesh and a reeling will, He felt the heave of the hill grow stiff, He saw black woods, which would shelter-- If-- Nothing else, but the steepening slope, And a black line nodding, a line of hope, The line of the yews on the long slope's brow, A mile, three-quarters, a half-mile now.

A quarter-mile, but the hounds had viewed, They yelled to have him this side the wood; Robin capped them, Tom Dansey steered them With a ”Yooi, Yooi, Yooi,” Bill Ridden cheered them.

Then up went hackles as Shatterer led, ”Mob him,” cried Ridden, ”the wood's ahead.