Fink v. Rvans.
FINK v. EVANS. u PICKLE 413. BY ALBERT W. GAINES, Of the Chattanooga, Tennessee, Bar. Twis a starlit bright November night, And the moon, with its shimmering beams, Rose over the hills of old McMinn, Silv'ring the woods and streams. Twas an ideal night for the chase of the fox In the Mouse-Creek Country round, And a single blast on the hunter's horn Calls yelping forth many a hound. Then away they fly with a hue and cry, Through wood, o'er hill and dale, Till the baying sound from a distant hound Announces the strike of the trail; Then vet'ran and pup take the leader's call up, Till the cry of the howling pack,— On the wings of the night, brings the hunter delight, For the dogs are now hot on the track. But Reynard was ever a sly, old fox, And he deals in deepest disguise, In the midst of the chase, an arch smile on his face, He takes to the railroad ties. The west-bound fast express was due— Which was probably known to the fox— Who now leaves his trail and the scent on the rail. Just to get those dogs in a box. So hound after hound, with his nose to the ground, As the train thunders down the grade. Along the track flies, fairly leaping- the ties, Not suspecting the trap that was laid. O, horror to relate! 'tis as certain as fate, There'll be a collision, unless One gets off the track or the other goes back. The dogs or the fast express. With dogged, unyielding persistence, the hounds Dispute the right to the track, Till along come the cars, like the mad rush of Mars, And kill about half of the pack. Now the hunter who owned those valuable dogs— Worth more because dead. I think—
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