CAPTAIN WARNER 101 



minutes in this covert and then away at the lower 

 end. There was a temporary check, Fred had the 

 hounds at his horse's heels, and not two hundred 

 yards away the weary fox could be seen crawling 

 up the opposite hill. 



The dusk of a winter evening was already merg- 

 ing into darkness, and every second was of value. 

 Had Fred rammed his horse through the fence and 

 given the pack a scream, they would have got a 

 view and killed at once. Instead, he dismounted 

 to pull out a tied-up hand-gate, and a priceless 

 opportunity was lost. No one else was there, and I 

 was putting the hounds to him ; but seeing him get 

 off his horse at such a moment nearly gave me a 

 fit. The result may be imagined — a fresh fox 

 jumping up, and the pack being with difficulty 

 stopped in the dark. 



If Fred Earp should read this, I feel sure he will 

 forgive the criticism, as it is such a long time ago, 

 and he is not likely to be looking for a huntsman's 

 berth. If he had been turning hounds to Firr, and 

 that gap had barred his way, he would have crashed 

 through without the slightest hesitation, yet when 

 the initiative to act was his he failed. 



Not only did the Quorn lose their fox that night, 

 but also a hound. Getting on the ice in Shoby 

 Pool, he broke through and was drowned. 



It was somewhere near the end of January in 

 this season that about half a dozen men, thinking 

 hounds had gone, started off on a two-mile ride 

 across country, with the idea of catching them. 



Being one of the guilty party, I can vouch for 

 having a very enjoyable ride, though feeling at the 

 same time rather ashamed of myself afterwards. It 



