Muggery
Gorse is only a mile this side of the big wood."
"And foxes of course go to the big wood?" asked Madame Max.
"Not always. They often come here,--and as they can't hang here, we
have the whole country before us. We get as good runs from Muggery as
from any covert in the country. But Chiltern won't go there to-day
unless the hounds show a line. By George, that's a fox! That's Dido.
That's a find!" And Spooner galloped away, as though Dido could do
nothing with the fox she had found unless he was there to help her.
Spooner was quite right, as he generally was on such occasions. He
knew the hounds even by voice, and knew what hound he could believe.
Most hounds will lie occasionally, but Dido never lied. And there
were many besides Spooner who believed in Dido. The whole pack rushed
to her music, though the body of them would have remained utterly
unmoved at the voice of any less reverenced and less trustworthy
colleague. The whole wood was at once in commotion,--men and women
riding hither and thither, not in accordance with any judgment; but
as they saw or thought they saw others riding who were supposed to
have judgment.
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