About three hundred yards before us lay the sunk fence; its breadth was about twenty feet, and a wall of close brickwork formed its face.

Over this the hounds were now clambering; some succeeded in crossing, but by far the greater number fell back, howling, into the ditch.
I turned towards Hammersley.

He was standing high in his stirrups, and as he looked towards the yawning fence, down which the dogs were tumbling in masses, I thought (perhaps it was but a thought) that his cheek was paler.
I looked again; he was pulling at his horse.

Ha! it was true then; he would not face it.

I turned round in my saddle, looked him full in the face, and as I pointed with my whip to the leap, called out in a voice hoarse with passion, "Come on!" I saw no more.