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22 for Nimrod's lead! to Chapman's bays, I think!—there are some sheltered nooks in which they will stop and bask when they find themselves unpursued.&quot; &quot;I'll go in with the boys,&quot; says Loveleap, with an unconcerned air, but a sly twinkle of the eye, which did not escape his comrades. &quot;As you like. Geordy and I will mind the stands.&quot; Some time was lost before the hounds could be drawn from their several chases; yet, as emulation did not &quot;prick them on,&quot; they came the sooner for being scattered. Loveleap heads the drivers, and it was just what we had anticipated, when, before a single dog had given tongue, we heard him fire; then came a burst, and then a second barrel; but to our great surprise no horn announced the expected success. The report of that gun went unquestioned in our sporting circle; it was in a manner axiomatic in woodcraft mysteries, and passed current with all who heard it for thus much—&quot;a deer is killed.&quot; Loveleap did an extraordinary thing that day—he missed! But the drivers could not understand and the hounds would not believe it; so they rushed madly away in pursuit, as if it was not possible for the quarry long to escape. &quot;Push on,&quot; says Geordy, &quot;they make for the river!&quot; and away we went. We reined in for a minute at the ford; and finding that they had already outstripped us and were bearing down for Chapman s fort,—a mile to the west of our position,—we struck across for the marshes south of us, where we might, if he was a young deer, intercept him on his return to his accustomed haunts. In an old buck we had no chance; he is sure to set a proper value on his life, and seldom stops until he has put a river between his pursuer and himself.

Taking advantage of a road that lay in our way, we soon cleared the woods and entered an old field that skirted the marsh. It was a large waving plain of rank broom grass,