290 THE IMAGE OF WAR 



and away we went at score over a closely fenced 

 country and down to the banks of what the natives, 

 uncertain whether to say "brook" or " river," call a 

 " water." Up these went the chase, and, as in all 

 bottom lands, the fences were big. Driving through 

 the extensive woods of another country-house, we ran 

 on in the direction of our original meet, but short of 

 it this fox, too, died in the open after a run similar to 

 the other in length. 



One more day of a different sort. Leaving the 

 meet, our way this time took us to high -lying wet 

 moors, intersected by those " sheep - drains " whose 

 hidden presence has been responsible for many a fall. 

 Here we came to a large gorse, from which a reluctant 

 fox was at last forced. He circled round, and for a 

 time hounds ran fitfully. Coming down an old " drove 

 road " — the old lines over which for centuries Highland 

 store-cattle made their way to the English pastures — 

 hounds suddenly swung to the right. The enclosing 

 rails stood on a high bank, but it was wide enough 

 to spring from, and some obliging thruster knocking 

 a rood or so of it somewhat towards the ploughed 

 fields we had to land in, made it easy enough. But 

 checks now came ; and, finally, it was with the feel- 

 ing that scent was not up to much that we marked 

 this fox to ground near a railway line. Here he w^as 

 left, and we rode back to the hills to try again. 



Two fir plantations, perhaps the distance of a T. Y.C. 

 apart, were the scenes of our next venture, arid one of 

 them held a fox. But, bothered and headed by some 

 second horsemen, he more than once dodged from one 

 to the other. Just as things began to look bad, he 

 slipped away. The fence was an uncompromising 

 stone wall, but fortunately there were rails in one 



