WITH THE KILLING KILDARES 95 



headed from it, and turned to the right. Hounds 

 were running very fast now, and fences were big and 

 plentiful. The banks are big, too, in the Dunlavin 

 country. 



His new point was towards Tynte Park, but again 

 he turned from it to the left by Tober and Lemons- 

 town, making, perhaps, for the Baron de Robeck's 

 covert of Cry help. He had to cry " Help," however, 

 or as Mr Jorrocks would say, " capevi,'' before he got 

 there ; for, as he crossed a byroad, hounds pulled him 

 down in the gateway of a little farm, the name of 

 which none of us knew, and which did not appear in 

 the Ordnance map. The time was just sixty-three 

 minutes ; the distance — well, the local papers called 

 it a ten-mile point, but that it was not. Nevertheless, 

 it had been a fast hunting run, and at times more 

 than that. 



Riding as I was a Kildare horse, born and broken, 

 who then had never given me a fall, I have rarely 

 enjoyed a run better. 



When I left Kildare's green pastures, it certainly 

 did not seem possible that I ever should see them 

 again ; and yet not much more than ten years had 

 elapsed when I was rudely surprised, as elsewhere 

 referred to in this book, at the receipt in Cyprus 

 of a telegram informing me that I was gazetted to 

 one of the newly-formed Royal Reserve Reghnents, 

 and ordered to join at the Curragh forthwith. 

 And at the Curragh the subsequent hunting season 

 found me. 



There were changes in Kildare. Colonel Moore, 

 who had reigned over the hounds when I first saw 

 them in 1887, and in my subsequent sojourns in 

 the country, was out in South Africa with a 



