VARIETY IN HUNTING COUNTRIES 213 



him go, and throughout the dangerous descent we hear 

 such cries as " Look at 'um now down thro' Mick's ley 

 field I " " Isn't he a divil ? " " Mind him now, across the 

 praties below," " He's a riglar (something) of a fox." 



At last — oh, joy ! — we are beyond the worst of the 

 gradient, and can see hounds cross a small field of 

 yellow grass below us ; and there we also find ourselves 

 in a few seconds more. The lower fence of the little 

 field appears simply a high mound of large stones piled 

 up along its length, but with an amazing rattle and 

 clatter of stones we surmount this difficulty. We have 

 the M.F.H. in front of us, his whipper-in is on the right, 

 and we have followed him as closely as etiquette will 

 permit down this terrible descent. 



The pack is slipping along now, and their eager, 

 excited notes come back up the hill to us with a 

 mocking challenge, as it seems. Now we drop into a 

 " boreen," so rough and stony that we doubt if progress 

 is quicker in this little lane than on the gorse-covered 

 slope we have left ; but we peg along, and when 

 the walls are low we catch glimpses of hounds ahead 

 and slightly to our right, and when they are high — 

 why, we hear the merry music and know our own 

 course is correct. But a gap from the " boreen " leads 

 us into a tiny field, in time to see hounds disappear 

 over a high stone-faced bank, and the surface of the 

 ground being now only slightly on the decline, we hug 

 ourselves with the notion that the hill is at last left 

 behind, and that we are fairly " in for a run." Our 

 boreen has also put us on terms again with the pack, 

 and the " skirmishers " who did not make the ascent 

 now are not one whit better off than ourselves. 



