54 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES 



went over a beautiful country and there was not 

 a sign of a check. I have a vivid recollection of 

 the gallop, and the stiff line we had to cross that 

 bright autumn afternoon. The fences had lost 

 none of their leaf, and the ditches were overgrown 

 with grass. Men and horses were steaming with 

 perspiration when hounds marked their fox to 

 ground in a drain beneath the turnpike close to 

 Brooksby Hall. The pack deserved blood, and 

 Firr meant to have it ; but for once in a way he 

 made a mistake in not trying forward. The fox 

 had gone right through the drain, and whilst we 

 were sending for terriers, he was putting himself 

 at a safe distance from the hunt. The same pack 

 had another capital afternoon spin the following 

 Monday. This was from Ella's Gorse. A brace 

 of foxes went away, and only a small portion of the 

 field realized that Firr was intent on following the 

 one which had crossed the brook. There was never 

 any difference of opinion on a question of this sort 

 between the pack and their huntsman. He would 

 give two or three cheers and they were after him 

 as quick as lightning. Hounds after one fox and 

 huntsman after another was a thing unknown in 

 the Quorn country. 



On this occasion they were streaming up the 

 grass beyond the brook before most people were 

 aware a brace of foxes had gone away, and those 

 who had thus lost this start never saw the hunt 

 again that day. A thick fog came on, hounds ran 

 very fast, and it was impossible to catch them up 

 if once you got behind. 



It was on the 15th of November that the Barkby- 

 Holt customer was first found. I give him that 



