THE EIGHTH DUKE 



went back to Biddesdon, and there sure enough was 

 our hunted fox, very tired, and, I think, would have 

 come to hand in about five or six minutes, but just 

 as they came to a momentary check Mr. Little's 

 son halloaed us away, and we went a screecher as 

 if straight for Hay Wood, then bearing to the right 

 between it and the gorse, nearly down to the Plough 

 inn, Kingston St. Michael, where we turned very 

 short to the left, leaving Kingston St. Michael to 

 the right, Easton to the left, and would have gone, 

 I believe, straight into Stanton Park. Suspecting 

 my friend's intentions, I clapped on, and exactly met 

 him as the hounds came to a check, our only one. 

 He turned through Leigh Delamere, as if for Clap- 

 gate Farm, and coming round to the right, down to 

 the little valley to the stile, corner of Stock Wood 

 and the green lane, up which he ran three-quarters 

 of a mile, when he met the keeper, who turned him 

 out to the right, and they ran him up to within sixty 

 yards of the Bell Farm. A man in the field, I 

 believe, turned him short right, but unfortunately 

 a fellow halloaing forward tremendously at the 

 moment, I went to him. I believe the man was 

 drunk — he certainly had never seen a fox ; the 

 hounds could not acknowledge him in any direction. 

 It was most unlucky, as three fields more must have 

 caught him." 



An incident related in the latter part of this 

 season shows how well some of the landowners 

 and keepers helped the hunt by preserving foxes. 



185 



