66 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



'Shall I box his ears or kiss him?' she inquired of 

 our hostess, who answered, — 



'Kiss him, Nell, for his honesty.' 



This reward might have been mine had not the 

 giant interfered with — 



'Box his ears, Mrs Geen, and give me the kiss/ 



This suggestion attracted attention, and we were 

 all in time to see the speaker's chin come up with 

 a snap as if the owner of it was astonished that it 

 should have dropped while he was only thinking. 

 I know now that my friend has a face that auto- 

 matically puts on a look to fit the occasion. His 

 v/ife knew it then, apparently, for she said, 'Your 

 innocent face would not save your ears if we could 

 but reach them. Kiss you indeed ! had we a ladder 

 we would both mount it and box your ears. But, 

 Cieorge, are you not forgetting Wilson? He is there 

 by this time.' 



'Oh, yes, I had quite. Now then, you fishers, pack 

 up your rods and come along.' 



\Ve were soon being bumped from here to there 

 and back again on the seats of the carriage as the 

 driver negotiated, as speedily as he might, the grass- 

 grown rutty lane that leads to and from the meadows. 

 The high double banks that hedge this old-world road 

 and the rush-grown ditches whence they have been 

 thrown afford splendid hiding-places for artful running 

 pheasants when October comes and the wood is shot. 

 Foxes have a great liking for these double banks, and 

 it was not at all uncommon for Carlo and Dash, a useful 

 couple of Cocker spaniels, to turn one out of them. 

 An aged, yard-hunting, mangy beast that had vexed 

 our host for a long time, had made a home in them, 

 but, although often seen, he could not be trapped or 

 shot. I had seen him break cover more than once 

 and canter off in quite a leisurely way too far ahead 

 to be in any danger. 



On a memorable morning I got to the bottom 



