HACK-HUNTING. 499 



as his own, the farther I invariably fall behind, till at last it 

 seems as if the world held nothing but me and my horse — oh 

 yes, and always one other twain (much more hopeful and 

 beaming). But never mind. Tired of giving reign to my 

 fancy as to what might be going on where a hundred pair of 

 shoulders were shrugging, and all seemed brisk and easy, as 

 they danced to the music that led them — I kicked in the one 

 spur that misfortune has left me, struck a line of gates, flustered 

 through hole and gap, and flung forward with an energy and 

 success that would have done credit to Mr. Jorrocks or a 

 butcher boy. So I saw hounds enter Frankton Wood, pulled 

 out my watch, and mopped my forehead with the best of them. 

 Five-and-thirty minutes I marked it down — then heard with 

 some misgiving (I am bound to confess) the holloa forward and 

 away, and realised that the run was not yet over. They drove 

 on a mile or two to Frankton Village ; then, turning down the 

 wind, could move only slowly to Baughton — near which village 

 their fox beat them, at the end of about an hour from the find. 



K K 2 



