The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1902-04-16
ABSOEU1ENp pURE


to follow the feetest pursuers of
willy Reynard. To ride with the.
former and listen to the latter, falls
like a rift of golden sunshine to
gladden. the hearts of fortunate
men.
Nearly every county in my state
boasts of club. and until two
years ago the Dinwiddie Club, of
which l am member, had always
tacked more brushes on the wall
than any other in Virginia.
Elated by success, we hunted hard,
and the redooated. pleasure giving.
aristocrats of the forest grew scar
Ger and scarcer, until at last dense
impenetrable swamp, some four
miles from tue clubhouse, a mile
in width, and two or three in
length afforded the only fox, and
he was very foxy. At almost the
same spot, day after day, the pack
would strike the trail, break into
full cry, and the hills giving back
the echo of the music, resounded
again with the cheers and laughter
of a reckless, excited throng, wind
ing their thoroughbreds, taking
long chances at ditch and fence,
to secure vantage ground. The
circle would grow narrower and
narrower, then straight course in
the direction of the swamp, and
the trail would be lost in its depths.
The bride reins would hang loose
on the lathering neck of the thor
oughbred as we rode dejectedly
homeward-fifty people trying to
think of way to outwit one little
animal, and to secure a trophy
about which many a story would
be told. We tried a chase by
moonlight, thinking he would stay
out longer in the shadows, and
give the dogs a better chance
false delusion. The towering gum
trees stretched, their long arms
above-us, and made grotesque Gg-
ures on the path, the wind stirred
the reeds, their gentle rustic mock
ed us as we retreated. Once the
chase lasted longer than usual and
the trail was lost in the corner of
field, where a patch of briers had
been burned Well he knew that
charcoal was a disinfectant, and
would not convey the scent, and as
| rode around the edge of the brun-
ed district his coat of red shone
bright against the yellow of the
broomsedge. as he glided away to
the safety of the swamp. 1 could
have shot him that day. But
would not that have been very un-
sportsmanlike?
The season closed Notes pour
ed in from adjoining clubs saying,
Turn your attention to coons and
gray foxes. Send for us and we will
catch him for you," and others of
like import.
Last summer we burned the
swamp. and as the dry reeds fed
the flames we knew that a longer
chase was at least in store for us,
when the grass grow up and the
charcoal had disappeared.
In better spirits we again assem-
bled, the deep voiced, long-eared
hound, as eager as the restless
horse, and more restless rider, and
so, we started another season, and
again the dogs became bewildered
after running the rail fence for a
hundred yards that zigzagged its
way along the upper edge of the
brake. Day after day witnessed
the rise and fall of hope in the
selfsame manner. at this spot we
were always brought to humili-
ating halt from which the circling
pack could go no futher, and from
this point we road home in spirits
not to be envied.
The situation became intensified
as the mystery deepened. The en-
ticing mint-julip no longer afford
ed its erstwhile soIace. a hurried
and somewhat gloomy consulta-
ton at the Club ensued, and We de-
cided to post fifty negroes as senti-
nels along the fence, some in trees
and some behind them with direct
ions to watch carefully and make
no noise.
A restless night was passed. An
hour before dawn We were ready.
Fifty men and women on horse