STAG-HUNTING 



He has too well considered his course of action to be deterred 

 from making good his point. Quietly and attentively he listens 

 to the tufters, as with unerring instinct they approach — " the 

 cry is still they come." His noble head moves more quickly 

 from side to side— the moment for action has arrived — the 

 covert is no longer safe. He must seek safety in flight, and 

 look to securer shades wherein to rest. So he gathers himself 

 together to run his course. 



' There ! you have seen a wild stag break covert, and 

 stretch away over the open. Did you ever see a finer sight — 

 did you mark well the beauty of his action as he bounded from 

 the fence of the wood ? Did you not view with admiration 

 his stately form as he gazed on the hunters drawn up at the 

 gate — the momentary pause, ere he stalked a few strides, as 

 if to show that he feared us not ? Was not the bounding trot 

 into which he then broke the very " poetry of motion " ? 

 And when at length he exchanged it for a long, easy, steady 

 gallop, did you ever witness movement more elastic and 

 graceful ? 



' Now, my friends, draw your girths, lend your aid to stop 

 the tufters, and make up your minds for a run. If you see 

 that stag again this side of Brendon Barton (unless by chance 

 we fall in with him, and he is " set up," brought to bay, that is, 

 in Badgworthy Water) I am very much mistaken. The 

 tufters are stopped, not without some difficulty. Sam and 

 his coadjutors emerge from the covert, the pack leave their 

 barn, and are taken carefully up to a spot where it is con- 

 venient to lay on. A shejDherd who has viewed the deer on the 

 open moor lifts his hat on a stick. We go to the signal — the 

 hounds press forward and are unrestrained — they dash — fling 

 their sterns — a whimper— a crash — they are off, and a hundred 

 horsemen follow as best they may across the wild open waste. 



' The pace is tremendous — the ground uneven and often 

 deep — already a tail, and many a gallant steed sobbing. On — 

 on still — till we come to the Badgworthy Water, a river, or 

 large burn, running down by the covert bearing that name. 



35 



