heard and immediately knew what it was. It was the first desultory bay of a fox hound—the note of warning that the hound gives when he has stumbled upon a faint suggestion of a scent. This in itself was not ominous, but there was no telling what it might lead to. So Red Fox waited and listened, all the time scanning the plains with his yellow, all-seeing eyes.
Presently the first desultory bay was followed by another and another and then the old leader broke into full cry, and a few seconds later he was joined by the entire pack.
The English fox hound is celebrated for his mellow, far-carrying bay and soon the valley was resounding with the full cry of the pack, a dozen strong. It reverberated from field to field. It floated faintly up to Red Fox's shelf on the rocks and the hillside flung it back across the valley. It was sweetest music to the fox hound lover. It was also music to the Kentucky hunting horse. For it meant to him that the great race was now on, no matter how leisurely his master had jogged along behind the hounds
