120 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES 



one views the varmint across the ride, and the next 

 second Fred's scream tells us he is away." 



The run commenced with a ring — thirty minutes 

 at racing pace. I think this was much too good a 

 fox to have indulged in circles if circumstances had 

 not compelled him to start up wind, and with hounds 

 close behind he was obliged to continue on that 

 same course until the Burton Spinneys screened 

 him from view. Here he swung to the left and, 

 after making a wide sweep out by Seagrave village, 

 returned to Walton Thorns : a thirty minutes' 

 gallop with the Quorn bitches flying, and with 

 scarcely a score of men in attendance. 



In that half-hour there was not the semblance 

 of a check, hounds just gliding from field to field, 

 and a select little band striving to keep with them. 

 No one dreamt of stopping to open a gate, or could 

 afford even to diverge a yard from the straight 

 line, and, in fact, we were all rather taking liberties 

 with our horses, though enjoying ourselves vastly ! 

 Those, however, who entered in the second stage of 

 the run, realized they had dropped in for something 

 out of the common, and it behoved them to husband 

 their mounts' reserve of strength. There was very 

 little time or opportunity for watching what others 

 were doing, but I have an impression of seeing 

 several dismounted men, with glowing faces, dis- 

 cussing the gallop they had just ridden, quite 

 oblivious to the fact that it was not finished. 



These men must, I think, have been left behind, 

 for hounds were barely five minutes in the covert 

 before they were sailing away again up the thorn- 

 studded field beyond — it was a day when scent 

 was better in the open. All Quornites know the 



