HUNTS WITH JOEROCKS 



The sun is very powerful, and Mr. Jorrocks 

 gives his hounds a lap at a stream before put- 

 ting them into cover. Warrington Banks are 

 irregularly fringed with copsewood, intermixed 

 with broom and blackthorn: lying warm to the 

 sun, the grass grows early, and old Priestess and 

 Rummager feather across a glade almost im- 

 mediately on entering. Presently there is a 

 challenge another then a third, and a chorus 

 swells. Mr. Jorrocks listens with delight, for 

 though a kill is hopeless, still a find is fine 

 Captain Shortflat turns pale. 



The hounds work on, bristling into the thick 

 of the cover. Now they push through an almost 

 impenetrable thicket, and cross a ride beyond. 

 The chorus increases, but the hounds move not. 

 ' Who-hoop ! it's a kill' 



Now Pigg jumps off his horse, and leaving 

 him to chance, bounds overhead among the 

 underwood. His cap-top is just visible as he 

 scrambles about in search of the place. ' To the 

 right ! ' exclaims Mr. Jorrocks, seeing him blindly 



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