HARRIERS 183 



In his lone retreat he felt as safe as on 

 Chapel Carn Brea ; he was even more remote 

 from the haunts of man. Yet harriers were 

 already on their way to the meet, and it was 

 that very ground where he sat that was to be 

 hunted. 



The Squire of Trengwainton had breakfasted 

 by candlelight, and as the clock over the stables 

 was striking half-past six, he mounted his 

 favourite grey mare and started out attired 

 in full hunting costume, green coat, white 

 breeches, boots reaching almost to the knee, and 

 a velvet cap that well became his clean-shaven 

 face. Twelve couple of hounds followed at 

 his horse's heels, the little procession as it 

 made its way along the avenue of beeches 

 being closed by Sam Noy, the whipper-in. 



Coming to the high ground beyond the Forest 

 Carn where the track forks, the squire turned 

 in his saddle and asked which road he should 

 take. 



'*The lower road. Sir Tudor," was the prompt 

 reply. Strange though it seems that the Squire 

 of Trengwainton should ask his way to the 

 meet, the explanation is simple. 



He had arrived in Cornwall from Pembroke 

 only three weeks earlier, after a voyage exciting 

 even for those disturbed times. The schooner in 



