They raved about to and fro, till at last one of the gentlemen descried the fox running down a double furrow in the middle of the field.

He had got into this, and so made his way more smoothly than his four-footed pursuers could.

The dogs were laid on, and away they went helter-skelter.
At the end of this stiff ground a stiffish leap awaited them; an old quickset had been cut down, and all the elm-trees that grew in it, and a new quickset hedge set on a high bank with double ditches.
The huntsman had an Irish horse that laughed at this fence; he jumped on to the bank, and then jumped off it into the next field.
Richard Bassett's cocktail came up slowly, rose high, and landed his forefeet in the field, and so scrambled on.
Sir Charles went at it rather rashly; his horse, tried hard by the fallow, caught his heels against the edge of the bank, and went headlong into the other ditch, throwing Sir Charles over his head into the field.

Unluckily some of the trees were lying about, and Sir Charles's head struck one of these in falling; the horse blundered out again, and galloped after the hounds, but the rider lay there motionless.
Nobody stopped at first; the pace was too good to inquire; but presently Richard Bassett, who had greeted the accident with a laugh, turned round in his saddle, and saw his cousin motionless, and two or three gentlemen dismounting at the place.

These were newcomers.