"S'Breath," James wheezed as he watched the hare. If this wasn't the beast of Earnest's stories, it was certainly related! The way it moved, cut past, jumped over the slightest obstacle, confounded the two lead dogs... it was incredible! His gelding reared back too late as the hare jumped over in an impossible leap over the saddle, James fighting at the reigns to keep his mount in check. Then they were off again, pounding along the half forgotten deer track that led them deeper and deeper into the wood. He vaguely recalled the solicitor telling him of an ancient spring house that used to be somewhere on the property, too far from the house to be of use and with little more than stubs of stone walls that marked where it once stood. It was somewhere in this direction, he remembered. Was that where the hare laired?

Fair Maid and Boarer crashed into each other again as they gave chase, the hare continuing to confuse them by running beneath their legs and over their rumps as it made its dash. James had to laugh at the sight of it. This wasn't a chase! It was a circus! She was a streak of black fur that would quickly out distance them with a few quick bounds, only to reappear again from some side hedge or from behind some tree as though to ambush them! And then she would be away again, legs flying and eating up the yards, up and over fallen logs and beneath the bracken. Was there ever such a creature as this?? If he caught it, James was not sure he'd have the heart to kill such marvelous creature. It would be like tearing up a masterpiece or taking sledge to sculpture! The idea of capturing it arose in his mind, giving him a greater cause to smile at the prospect and greater purpose to his heels as he urged the horse onwards.

Then they were riding downwards, diagonally across a low hill so filled with trees and brush that he could scare see more than a few yards out. Relying on the two younger dogs to sniff out the hare was proving futile, even as she proved them fools. Youth and vigor were not working. Time for experience and cunning. "Draper! Go to, boy! Go to!" The ancient hound raised his nose to give a great sniff and then was off like a cannonball. Draper was bred to the trails, the finest beagle a man could ask for, and while the dog was advancing in years it knew the hunt and the game far better than any other. He might not be able to overtake the hare, but he could definitely smell it-

James was unable to complete the sentence for the world was pulled out from under him. The remains of the stone wall had appeared as if from nowhere, startling his mount into stopping cold and throwing the rider forward and over. The young master flew over his steed's head. A distant part of his mind became petulantly preoccupied with the fact that his hat had left his head at the same time. And then he was soaked. Cold spring water seeped into his clothes and boots even as the pond's water broke his fall. Sputtering, James attempted to rise, only to slip on some rock beneath the surface and fall backward into the waters again indignantly. Behind him, the horse whickered as if in amusement while the two younger dogs with tongues out jumped into the water with him joyously. Draper slowly worked his way downwards towards them, the old hound's sad face bearing the cast of one who is not amused.