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For VA tedious hours, casual but constant work on the part of the Georgia pack produced nothing but the pop and crackle of scurrying hounds through crisp, footdeep leaves on wooded mountain sides and trails of dust in the wake of the horses on bone dry pastures.
It was disappointing but understandable, given the parched terrain.
As a last resort, Mr. Hardaway cast his hounds into one of William Lanes’ 50-acre stands of corn. Hunters waited at the edge, hearing nothing but scattered rustlings when, of a sudden, a Fine high-voiced hound gave tongue.
This piercing note, like a powerful magnet, pulled eager hounds from surrounding hills and pastures, plummeting in to honor the finder.
For 10 minutes a growing chorus moved around in the cornfield. When it reached a fine crescendo, out burst a big sleek red fox. Tallyhoes went up from sharp-eyed hunters.
The Chase
The fox sprinted over the pasture down into a thick hedgerow along a branch and made it up a steep open hill on the other side. All 20
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