252 REMINISCENCES OF THE LEWS. 



beaten up to them by the hounds and piqueurs. 

 I was committed to Carabine's care, to be 

 posted in a remote corner, in case anything 

 went back, with directions to move on towards 

 the posted guns as the hunt (as we used to say 

 in Ireland) came on. I trotted at Carabine's 

 heels till he left me, nearly blown, by a tree, 

 which he charged me not to leave till I heard 

 his double Chouan whistle. Did you ever hear 

 one ? The railway is a joke to it. He then 

 plunged into the wood. All was still for a long 

 time. At last I heard the cry of hounds. It 

 approached, and I really thought I was in for a 

 shot; but, whether from over-keenness I showed, 

 or did something I ought not to have done, the 

 hounds turned, and I soon heard an unearthly 

 something, twice repeated, that made me jump, 

 and down my cross-ride I went, best pace, for 

 the great alley, parallel to which, apparently, 

 the hounds were running. As I came in sight 

 of the first gun, I recognised Aimee, who was 

 chasseur as well as courier and valet. I halted, 

 for the hounds, having turned, were running 

 towards us, and I felt sure that the beast afoot, 

 whatever it was, would break between Aimee 

 and myself. Just then, what should spring into 

 the alley — evidently only disturbed, not hunted 

 — but a little, miserable roe-deer calf. Imme- 



