6o The TetGott Hunt CJUeek. 



that gives us a ring through Hunscott, Bratton, 

 Blagadon, and back again. It is said to be a vixen, 

 but I am no expert in such matters. 



I was sorely tried last month when shooting with 

 an Irish officer who rents a place near me. We had 

 killed a great many hares, and my friend, after con- 

 sultation with his keeper, said to me, '' I don't think 

 wee shall keell any more haeres. I don't know quhat 

 wee will do with the haeres." Then after a little 

 thought he said, " Whell, eef it's a bhuck or jack 

 ye may shoot, but spare does, spare does." And 

 this to a man who can hardly distinguish a hen from 

 a cock pheasant when the order is given, '' Spare 

 hens." 



From Cowditch, giving the fox the benefit of a 

 doubt, we go on to draw for a fresh one, and on 

 Circuit Moor we find one of the straight-nose sort, 

 and which some knowing men pronounce to be of 

 the real old tiger breed. He goes away in full view 

 of the whole field, and with the pack at his brush. 

 The rush of cavalry is terrific, and in the confusion 

 and blinding showers of mud and peat from leading 

 horses' heels, I lose my fair one for a time. But 

 when the '' field " opens out a bit, and I recover the 

 use of my eyes, I catch sight of her at the tail of 

 the pack. At racing speed I follow, but still in the 

 ruck, worse luck, as all are going their best. 



Close to the town of Holsworthy a check enables 



