“who—whoop! they have him, they’re round him;
they worry and tear when he’s down;
’twas a stout hill fox when they found him,
now ’tis a hundred tatters of brown.”
in john peel’s time the fell country fox was a distinct variety. long in the leg, with a grizzle-grey jacket covering a wiry frame, the appellation “greyhound” fitted him exactly. as such he was then known, and the extraordinary long runs which he often provided fully upheld his reputation as a traveller. in habits, too, he was different from the present-day representatives of the vulpine race. wild and shy, he avoided the haunts of men, and was seldom found lying up anywhere near human habitations. he and his kind were few in number, compared with the ample stock to-day, and in consequence each individual fox travelled a wider beat, and knew more country. it, therefore, naturally followed that hounds often ran fast and far when piloted by one of these old-fashioned “greyhound” customers.
by degrees, owing to the importation of foxes for restocking certain districts adjoining the fells, the true hill fox became infused with this new blood. the new-comers were a smaller and redder variety, and although to-day hounds often account for foxes with greyish jackets, the supply as a whole differs little in appearance from the foxes which are brought to hand in the shires. it may be safely said that the real old “greyhound” variety is a thing of the past, only to be seen to-day staring woodenly from a glass case in the fell-side farmhouses.
long and lean, the fell fox proper was a much heavier animal than his relations who have usurped his place. eighteen pounds was a common weight, and instances of twenty and twenty-three pounds have been recorded, but to-day there are more foxes under than over sixteen pounds. now and then the fell packs kill an extra heavy fox, and i can vouch for the weights of at least three foxes which pulled down the scales to the eighteen-pound mark.
curiously enough two of these foxes were killed by the coniston hounds on the same day. the date was march 16th, 1913, and the first fox was killed at high dale park, near coniston, after a good hunt of two and a half hours. fox number two was run into on the shore of coniston lake, after a fast hunt, by way of high bethicar,[25] brockbarrow, and the nibthwaite and park-a-moor coverts.
this season, 1919, the same pack killed a big, lean dog fox on november 25th, at birk brow in the winster valley. this fox weighed exactly eighteen pounds, and was in hard condition. in november, 1912, the mellbrake hounds accounted for a fox of nineteen pounds. they found him on low fell, and ran him, by way of whinfell, to the river cocker. the stream being in flood, the fox retraced his track to low fell, where he went to ground. the terriers bolted him, and he gave a further five-mile spin before he was run into at buttermere. on thursday, january 15th, 1920, the coniston foxhounds killed a nineteen-pound dog-fox in the open, near blea tarn, langdale. this is an exceptionally heavy fox, even for the fell country.
in his habits, the fell fox differs little from his relations in the low countries. in the daytime he makes his couch at a high elevation, often on one of the many heather or bleaberry covered ledges which seam the face of the crags on the mountain top. occasionally he may lie at a lower elevation, amongst the ling on the grouse ground, or in some straggling covert of larch or oak; but his kind generally prefer to make their kennel well up the fell-side, where, except for the visit of an occasional shepherd, they are free from disturbance. when[26] the sun begins to sink, reynard leaves his bed, stretches himself, and turns his mask in the direction of the dales. on the fell proper, there is little for him to feed on, with the exception of beetles and frogs, and an occasional carcass in the shape of a defunct sheep. lower down he can find rabbits, grouse, and perhaps a pheasant, or, if he be impudent enough, can make a raid on the farmers’ poultry. young lamb, too, is an item added to his, or, perhaps, i should say, her menu in spring, for it is then when the vixen has cubs, and the latter require constant feeding. in summer the fells swarm with beetles, and if the excrement of a fox be examined it will often be found to consist almost entirely of the wing cases and other hard portions of these insects. frogs, too, are a favourite food. i have often found lumps of frog spawn lying on the narrow footpaths leading to the fell tops, and for a long time i used to wonder how these lumps got there. i finally arrived at the conclusion that foxes are responsible for the presence of the spawn. reynard catches his frog in some pool or marshy spot, and carries his prey with him as he wends his way up one of the well-defined “trods.” there he makes a meal of the frog, but the spawn squeezed out of the creature he dislikes, so leaves it untouched.
where he can get rabbits he will seldom go short of food, though little comes amiss to him if[27] he thinks he can use it for a meal. like a dog, he often buries food for future consumption. i was recently talking to a keeper who found three rabbits buried in the snow. the tale of reynard’s doings was plainly told on the white surface. the rabbits had been feeding in rank grass and rushes, and the fox had easily stalked and captured them. i have found the following list of furred and feathered creatures scattered about in and around a fell fox’s earth: portions of two leverets, remains of several rabbits, feathers and bones of grouse, a very young lamb, and the untouched body of a short-eared owl. the only mark on the owl was a bite in the neck, probably done by the vixen when she killed the bird. owl had not apparently suited the cubs’ taste, otherwise they would soon have pulled it to pieces.
at other earths i have found remains of pheasants and woodcock, with occasionally bones and feathers of blackgame. both the dog-fox and the vixen carry food to the cubs, but the vixen does most of this work.
if an earth is disturbed when the cubs are quite young, the vixen carries them off one by one to some safer retreat. a breeding earth often becomes very foul, what with the excrement of the cubs and the rotting portions of food left lying about. unless the vixen occasionally shifted her offspring disease would be liable to attack them.[28] as a rule the vixen lays down her cubs in some small and comparatively simple earth, often within reach of other and more extensive rocky retreats. the latter are used when the cubs are nearly full-grown. on the fells, a fox can get to ground almost anywhere amongst the rocks, but there are in every district well-known earths or, in local parlance, “borrans,” which have been regularly used by generations of foxes. some of these earths go a long way underground, and are composed of masses of rock and huge boulders, amongst which it is always difficult, and often dangerous, to work, in an attempt to unearth a fox which has gone to ground. where a fox can go a small terrier can generally follow, but at times the dog is unable to return, and many a good terrier has lost his life in some underground retreat from which it was impossible to extricate him.
the fell fox loves rough ground, and uphill amongst the rocks he is a match for the swiftest hound. he can climb like a cat, and can squeeze his lean body through a very small opening. when hard pressed by hounds, instead of going to ground, he will sometimes attempt to evade them by taking refuge on some narrow ledge or “benk” on the crags. when this happens there is always the danger that hounds in the excitement of fresh-finding their fox may fall from the ledges on to the jagged rocks far below. although reynard is[29] quite at home in such places, even he sometimes goes too far, and finds his retreat cut off, and an impassable route ahead of him. there he crouches until some too venturesome hound finds a way to him, and unless the hound catches and holds him on the ledge, one or other of them, if not both, will be lucky if they escape death by a fall.
i have seen a young hound fall with his fox from a height of two hundred feet, and i can assure you it is far from being a pleasant sight. this season, 1919, i watched a fox run by the blencathra hounds, take refuge on a blaeberry-covered ledge on a small crag. hounds could wind him from the top, and at last one of them scrambled up from below and walked right on top of the fox. reynard sprang up, the hound seized, but could not hold him, and i saw the fox fall backwards off the ledge as he wrenched himself free. luckily the hound had sense not to follow. reynard fell a matter of fifty feet, scrambled on to his legs again, and went off, though it was easy to see he was badly shaken by his fall. not long after he went to ground, was ejected, and finally killed.
hunting with the same pack on another occasion, i saw a fox climb the face of a steep crag overlooking thirlmere lake. only one hound out of the four couples which were running him managed to make the ascent, the remainder going round and out to the top by a different route.
the fences on the fells consist of loose stone walls, and foxes often run the wall tops for long distances, both when hunted and when out on the prowl.
on bad ground the fox uses his brush to aid him when making a quick turn at speed, and also to correct his balance in descending a declivity. i once watched a big dog-fox descend a steep, frozen snow drift. he carried his brush straight up in the air, whilst he took short mincing steps on the slippery surface. at ordinary times he carries his caudal appendage straight out behind him, the tip inclined slightly towards the ground.
both dog-fox and vixen may have a white tag to the brush, though i think there are more of the former than the latter with such white tips. a white-tagged brush is not at any rate, as i have heard it said, the invariable mark of a dog-fox.
hill foxes vary a good deal in colour, from a light yellowish-red to dark red, with sometimes a good many grey hairs mixed with the rest. the “greyhound” fox often showed a lot of white about the fore legs, but modern foxes shade off from red to black. during the 1918 season the coniston hounds killed a fox with an abnormal amount of white about the front of its mask.
when driven off the fell, and hard pressed by hounds in the low ground, i have seen foxes take refuge in all sorts of places. once on a roof, again[31] on the window-ledge of a cottage, in a coal-house, and one desperately hunted fox sprang into a stream in roaring flood, to be carried under a bridge. dry drains are often used as lying-up places, and they also afford refuge for hunted foxes, as do rabbit holes.
reynard has no hesitation in taking to the water when need be, and i once saw a fox twice swim across the high end of a small lake, when it might just as easily have skirted the water, though doubtless the close proximity of hounds had something to do with the animal’s decision. a fox can climb like a cat, and when jumping an obstruction he hardly ever does so straight. a tame fox, kept in a roomy stable, invariably sprang up the side of the wall and threw himself into the manger, rather than jump straight into the latter, which he could easily do. a fox is also like a cat in the matter of the proverbial “nine lives.” i have often seen one after a terrific underground battle with the terriers, finally drawn out to all appearances dead, or practically so. thrown on the ground the carcass has suddenly come to life, and made a bold bid for liberty.
if forced to go to ground in a spot not of his own choosing, a hill fox will sometimes squeeze himself tight into a narrow crevice of the rock where he is unable to distribute punishment to the terriers, but is forced to take and endure it from[32] them. as a rule, however, reynard takes good care to make his stand where he commands the upper position, the terriers having to go up to him face to face. when this happens, the dog often gets badly marked, until another terrier can get behind the fox and force him to change his ground. when run to ground even in a big earth, a hunted fox sometimes elects to bolt very quickly. i remember on one occasion watching a fox enter a very strong earth, and before hounds could get to the spot, it bolted, went to ground again a few yards further on, and finally bolted and made straight away, to afford a good hunt.
a sure sign that a fox in a rocky earth is shifting his position underground, and may show himself, is when the terriers cease barking, and hounds begin to rush about the “borran.” a fox has an uncanny knack of escaping from hounds, even if they are practically all round him. in rough ground, particularly, he is an adept at making his getaway.
in long heather a fox will often lie very close indeed, until hounds hunt right up to him. then when you see the members of the pack jumping above the heather, as if expecting to view their quarry, you can look out, for he is sure to be lying hidden somewhere close to you. he will do the same on the ledge of a crag if he thinks he can escape notice, but, as a rule, he is not long in[33] leaving his retreat. i remember on one occasion seeing a fox curled up on a ledge quite bare of cover, in a crag overlooking the deepdale valley. hounds were questing for a drag far below. i was talking to another man at the time, yet that fox lay there and never stirred even an ear. finally, i threw a stone at it, which bounced off the rock above it, making considerable noise. still that fox lay on, as if deaf and blind. the next stone, however, was better aimed, and it rolled a few feet right on top of the fox. that woke him up, and he tarried not on his going. he must either have been asleep, or could not have heard or winded us. there was a stiffish breeze at the time, which may have had something to do with it.
i have only once seen a breeding earth actually in a crag. the vixen had chosen for her retreat a crevice in the face of the rock; the ascent to which was by no means easy. that the cubs had been well fed there was abundant evidence in the shape of pheasants’ tail feathers, bones, etc. these birds had been caught and killed in the dale below, and had been carried by the vixen for a considerable distance. dog-foxes fight amongst themselves; these battles no doubt taking place in spring, when they travel long distances to visit the vixen of their choice. i have in my possession the mask of a big dog-fox—he weighed over seventeen[34] pounds—with half the left ear gone, doubtless the result of a fight.
at his own pace a hill fox can go for ever, and it is when scent is rather permanent than strong that extra long runs take place. even on the roughest fells there is always some ground where hounds can press their fox, and so by degrees get on good terms with him. it is the pace which kills, in addition to the superior condition of the hounds. if a fox has gorged himself overnight, and hounds find him early in the morning, he is not in condition to show them a clean pair of heels, for he cannot, like a heron, lighten himself by throwing up his food. the consequence is, if hounds get away on anything like good terms, they burst him in a very short time. on the other hand, if he has come from a long distance in search of a vixen, he is not likely to have let hunger draw him away from love-making, so should he be forced to run for his life he can do it on an empty stomach, and his course is likely to be in a bee-line back to his own country. then, if scent is good, the pace will be a cracker, and many miles will be covered, ere he is rolled over or run to ground. it is in spring that most of the longest runs take place, when the dog-foxes are on love-making bent.
the pace of a fox is very deceptive. he moves with a gliding action that carries him swiftly over[35] the ground. one minute he is here, the next he is far away, and you wonder how the dickens he did it. not long ago a hunted fox passed me on a road, so close i could have touched him with a stick. i stood stock still when i saw him coming, and he took not the slightest notice of me. his mouth was slightly open, his black-tipped ears flattened close to his head, and he carried his brush straight and stiff as a poker behind him. i could plainly hear his panting, and the sound of his pads on the hard surface of the road. he did not appear to be travelling fast, so smooth was his action, but he passed me like a flash, and was very soon out of sight.
the fell fox does not get his first experience of being hunted until later in the year than the date set for cub-hunting in the shires. somewhere about the first or second week in october he will be roused some morning by the sound of the horn, and the music of the pack. it will be lucky for him if scent is only moderate, for in all probability he knows little country beyond the particular mountain where he was bred. if he survives the day he will begin to think his old quarters are not so very safe after all, and by degrees he will lengthen his journeys until he becomes familiar with a much wider area of country. next time hounds come he may lead them a merry dance, and if luck is once more with him, he will have[36] gained still greater confidence in his powers and knowledge of his beat.
that certain foxes manage to live to a great age there is ample evidence in the shape of old and almost toothless customers brought to hand. it is a matter for surprise that nearly all these old things are fat and in good condition. probably as age weakens their powers they make up for it in cunning, and so manage to still secure an adequate food supply. like human beings, very old foxes show a good deal of grey about the head, giving them a grizzled, worn appearance.
although the hill fox does most of his wandering abroad at night, he may occasionally be seen in daylight. not long since a fox walked almost the entire length of the troutbeck valley, near windermere, despite the fact that he was loudly halloed at by several people en route. one may travel the fells for years without setting eyes on a fox except when hounds are out, despite the ample stock of foxes which now inhabit the mountains.
during the last ten years i have not seen more than half a dozen foxes when i have been wandering about the hills, though, curiously enough, i saw one on three successive evenings not long ago, in all probability the same fox on each occasion. this fox was coming down off the hill en route to the low ground, at about the same time each evening. of course, if you are shooting on the[37] high ground, or walking with a shepherd whose dogs are running about the fell, you may often chance to disturb a fox. i refer, of course, to old foxes, not cubs, which latter are often to be seen in the vicinity of their earths.
a big dog-fox bred on the fells, is no mean antagonist for a terrier; in fact, if the latter is a small one, it may on occasion meet death at the white fangs of the fox. reynard is no coward; when forced to fight he can put up a terrific battle. in addition he can stand a lot of punishment.
that dread scourge, mange, seldom makes its appearance on the fells, and was unheard of until the importation of foxes from outside introduced it. there is no more horrid sight than a badly manged fox, hairless, and foul with disease.
fell fox cubs are easy to rear, and make nice pets, but they must be kept scrupulously clean, and properly fed. i once gave a cub to a friend of mine, and it lived for over three years in captivity. it was kept in a stable, where an old pony shared the space. pony and fox were great friends, and it was no uncommon sight to see the fox jumping on and off the pony’s back.
this fox became on quite friendly terms with a terrier, and on several occasions i photographed the two of them coupled together. the friendship made not the slightest difference to the utility of the terrier against other foxes, for on the day after[38] i photographed him and his vulpine pal, he ran a long wet drain and collared his fox at the end of it, hounds having forced reynard to ground.
the armistice.
“kelly,” one of the coniston hunt terriers, and “jacky,” a tame fox.
i have previously said that fox cubs are easy to rear, and in a way they are, depending, however, on their age when taken from the breeding earth. when very young, say two or three days old, they are quite helpless, being both blind and toothless. at this stage of their existence they should be fed on milk. if a rubber teat with a very small aperture is used, they will learn to suck warm milk through it. at first i used to give cubs diluted milk, but they seem to thrive on new milk quite as well. when very young, the body covering of a cub is mouse-colour, but even at this tender age the tiny tail—hardly to be called a brush—often shows a white tip. very young cubs must be kept warm, otherwise they are apt to chill and die suddenly. as they grow older, artificial heat may be dispensed with. cubs open their eyes fully when about three weeks old, and at first their eyes are bluish-grey in colour. at something over three weeks the eyes begin to assume the amber hue of the eyes of the adult, and the coat commences to turn from mouse-colour to brown. at five weeks the cub can walk in rather a wobbly sort of way, but the legs rapidly gain strength. from this stage onward,[39] cubs should be kept in a roomy kennel or other enclosure, as they become very active and playful, and delight in exercise.
when their teeth begin to appear, a small quantity of meat may be given them. rabbit flesh with a bit of the skin and fur adhering to it is the best. after my cubs were big enough to take meat, they still preferred their milk by suction through a teat, and it required some patience and persuasion before they would lap from a saucer. they were fond of gnawing and playing with bones, and used to growl furiously if i interfered with their food. absolute cleanliness of their abode is of vital importance if the cubs are to grow up healthy and well. once they begin to feed heartily on meat, water is better for them than milk, and a clean supply should always be within their reach. in a wild state water is their only drink, and flesh, coupled with beetles, frogs, etc., their chief food. mice, or, rather, field voles are the first creatures which the vixen teaches her cubs to stalk and kill. both cubs and adult foxes devour quantities of these voles, and spend a good deal of time stalking them.
a fox stalks a vole in the same way that a cat goes about the business. wandering along in the moonlight, on the prowl for anything edible, reynard’s unerring nose warns him of the presence of a vole. a few paces ahead of him he sees the[40] grass stems moving, beneath which the tiny rodent is at work. step by step the fox makes his noiseless approach, until, within springing distance, he halts, then bounds straight on top of the vole, nose and forepaws coming down together. a crunch, a swallow, and the tit-bit disappears down reynard’s throat. it is only a morsel, but evidently a tasty one, otherwise the fox would not waste so much of his time in pursuit of mice and voles.
any one who has watched a litter of well-grown cubs at play in a large enclosure, will discover how it is that a fox can so easily beat hounds for pace on very rough hill-ground.
i once spent several days watching and photographing seven young foxes—six dogs and a vixen—which were being reared to maturity in a kennel. the food of these cubs consisted of young rabbits’ carcasses slit open. two or three cubs would seize a rabbit, and a tug-of-war ensued, generally ending in a free fight. one fox would fly at another, and so quick were their movements that the eye could hardly follow them. the favourite grip in such encounters appeared to be across the loins at the narrow portion of the back, though sometimes a throat hold took its place.
as each cub secured its portion of food, it darted behind the nearest shelter, or sought a corner of the yard. those not participating in the[41] struggle crouched down and watched the performance. if one cub approached another in hopes of sharing the feast, the feeding fox would growl furiously in defence of his tit-bit. the vocal sounds of these cubs were a sort of growl and hiss combined, a curious medley of dog and cat noises.
occasionally one of them would bark, the sound being a sharp wow, wow, wow, the last note being longer drawn than the rest. on many a night in early spring i have heard the same sharp bark far up the fell side, where a dog-fox was calling to his mate.
i have more than once seen pictures of foxes “barking at the moon,” exactly as a dog does on a clear, moonlight night. these pictures always represented the fox with his nose pointed skyward, as a dog does when he howls. i have not seen a wild fox in the act of barking, but the cubs above mentioned invariably held their heads quite low, with nose slightly towards the ground. the only vixen in this litter was much tamer than her brothers, and never took part in any of the scrimmages, at feeding time. one of the dog cubs carried his brush much like a collie, with a decided curl at the tip. probably in time, however, this curl would straighten out.
as these cubs were to be eventually turned down, they were in no way petted, and never[42] became really tame. the wilder they are before being given their liberty the better, from a hunting point of view.
despite their furious battles, cubs can stand a tremendous lot of knocking about without sustaining any real hurt, and doubtless these struggles fit them for making their way in the world later in life.
roughly speaking, the vixen lays down her cubs some time in march, though on the fells litters are apt to be later than in the low country. with a family of cubs to feed, it is not surprising that the fell fox now and then takes to lamb-killing. if rabbits are not fairly handy to the earth, and lambs are, the vixen will often pick up the latter when new-born, and carry them off. sometimes she will kill more than she really needs, and then the farmer sends for the hounds, and a may fox dies.
if the vixen thinks that the whereabouts of the breeding earth has been discovered, she will promptly remove her offspring elsewhere, often to a much stronger and safer retreat.
it is not surprising that foxes, being so remarkably active, are good climbers. i once paid a visit to four well-grown cubs in a roomy dog kennel, which was divided down the centre by iron railings. the lower half of this partition was covered with wire netting, and the cubs when at play used to fly up the wire and squeeze themselves[43] through the bars above. they would repeat the exercise again and again, appearing to thoroughly enjoy it.
even in the low country it is no uncommon occurrence to find foxes lying up in pollard willows or other situations well above ground level. on the fells, foxes climb like cats, and can make their way anywhere amongst the crags. foxes have been known to climb trees when hard pressed by hounds, but the little grey fox of america often does so in pursuit of birds and fruit, it being as much a fruit-eater as a consumer of flesh.
the grey fox is not a sporting beast; it prefers doubling and twisting to running straight, and soon goes to ground. it is more useful, however, than the indian fox, which leaves no scent at all, and only provides sport when coursed.
although foxes move about to a certain extent by day, most of their peregrinations are made during the hours of darkness. there is no doubt that a fox can see well in the dark, for his eyes are more like a cat’s than a dog’s. taxidermists usually put dark eyes with round pupils in their mounted fox masks, whereas the real eye is amber-coloured, with veins, and a pupil which contracts to a narrow oval or ellipse. a mask so mounted has a much more foxy expression. i only know one firm of taxidermists who do really good work on fox masks, and that is peter spicer and sons, of[44] leamington. i can “spot” a mask done by them, out of any number of others.
i have heard it said that a fox dislikes travelling down wind when the latter is strong, because it blows his brush about, but in my own experience i have known foxes travel both up and down wind in a gale, and it did not appear to inconvenience them. as for not facing a strong wind, a fox will make his point on the fells so long as he can keep his feet at all. a fox stands much lower than a man, and the wind has not the same extent of surface to act upon.
as i have previously mentioned, a fox uses his brush to help him in turning quickly, and as an aid to balance. he also appears to use it when suddenly increasing his pace. not long ago i saw a fox found by hounds, and he at once took to the rough ground, with the pack running in view. he soon outdistanced them, and slackened his pace, till the leading hound, which had not been saying much, owing to the steepness of the ground, suddenly shot into view. the fox saw the hound, and quickly altered his speed, while he swung his brush with a circular movement, as if using it like a screw to give him renewed impetus. i have seen a fox keep his brush revolving in a similar manner when very hard pressed by hounds downhill on steep ground, but under average conditions he carries it straight and stiff behind him.
the fell fox is always in better training than his relations in the low country, because he has, as a rule, much further to go in search of food, and his beat is a wide one. he is generally lean and hard, though now and then one comes across a fox carrying a certain amount of fat. a fox, like a hare, or any other hunted animal for that matter, if forced beyond the limit of his beat, is more or less nonplussed, and runs in an aimless manner. i remember a run of this kind in the 1918-19 season, when hounds killed a big dog-fox in the open. during the latter part of the run, this fox took refuge in a shed adjoining a house. leaving this unsafe retreat, he travelled on, and, after passing a number of places where he could easily have got to ground, eventually lay down on the fell side. as hounds drew near he jumped up, and they never broke view till they rolled him over, stiff as a poker. it was plain to see he was in country strange to him, but the first part of the run had been very fast, and hounds had forced him downhill off his own range of mountains, and so to his eventual undoing.
during the war foxes increased on the fells, and, at any rate in the windermere district, some of them have been found lying at a lower altitude than usual. also the windermere harriers have not been hunting this season, 1919-20, so that foxes from the hills may have taken advantage[46] of the unusual quietude of haunts near the dales. the increase on the high ground has led also to foxes putting in an appearance in country some distance from the fells, where they have not been seen for many years.
the war was a handicap to sport on the fells, just as it affected hunting in the shires and elsewhere. the shortage of horses was not, of course, felt, but with so many followers away at the front, huntsmen of the fell packs were obliged to work practically single-handed. a number of experienced hunters scattered about the fell tops are a great help to a huntsman, and the want of them is quickly felt. now, however, all the fell packs are in full swing again, and prospects for the future appear rosy.
“see, there he creeps along; his brush he drags
and sweeps the mire impure; from his wide jaws
his tongue unmoistened hangs; symptoms too sure
of sudden death.”
