There was a good scent, and the hounds shot across the Fleecyhaughwater Meadows, over the hill, to the village of Berrington Roothings, where, the fox having been chased by a cur, the hounds were brought to a check on some very bad scenting-ground, on the common, a little to the left of the village, at the end of a quarter of an hour or so.

The road having been handy, the hard riders were there almost as soon as the soft ones; and there being no impediments on the common, they all pushed boldly on among the now stooping hounds.
'Hold hard, gentlemen!' exclaimed Mr.Bragg, rising in his stirrups and telegraphing with his right arm.

'Hold hard!--pray do!' added he, with little better success.

'Dim it, gen'lemen, hold hard!' added he, as they still pressed upon the pack.

'Have a little regard for a huntsman's raputation,' continued he.