"You're wrong, Ballindine," said the Parson; "for you'll drive him up
into the big plantation, and you'll be all day before you make him
break; and ten to one they'll chop him in the cover."

"Would you put them into the gorse at once then?"

"Take 'em gently through the firs; maybe he's lying out--and down into
the gorse, and then, if he's there, he must go away, and into a tip-top
country too--miles upon miles of pasture--right away to Ballintubber,"

"That's thrue, too, my lord: let his Rivirence alone for understandhing
a fox," said Mick, with a wink.

The Parson's behests were obeyed. The hounds followed Mick into the
plantation, and were followed by two or three of the more eager of the
party, who did not object to receiving wet boughs in their faces, or
who delighted in riding for half an hour with their heads bowed close
down over their saddle-bows. The rest remained with the whipper,
outside.

"Stay a moment here, Martin," said Lord Ballindine. "They can't get
away without our seeing them, and I want to speak a few words to you."

"And I want particularly to spake to your lordship," said Martin; "and
there's no fear of the fox! I never knew a fox lie in those firs yet."

"Nor I either, but you see the Parson would have his way. I suppose, if
the priest were out, and he told you to run the dogs through the
gooseberry-bushes, you'd do it?"