A fox-hunting mountain farmer had a favorite hound and was fond of boasting of his dog’s speed. One morning, at break of day, he and his friends started a fox, and the dogs went yelling, the favorite in the lead. On they sped over hills, and across creek and vale, the hunters at last outstripping all the pack, except
the deep bark of the flying hound, and the excitement of fever pitch. Then they came upon a woodman, cutting down a tree. the favorite dog. He was clear out of sight, but every now and again, they could hear
“Did you see anything of a dog and fox running by just now?” exclaimed the farmer.
“How were they making it?”“Yes,” said the woodman.
“Oh,” said the woodman, “the dog was a little ahead!”