THE ART ITSELF 177 



smallest places, and yet without going out of the 

 way. 



Hounds are driving along now at a tremendous 

 pace over the old turf, and there is not a sign 

 of one tailing off. You are delighted with the 

 result of your kennel management, with summer 

 conditioning and autumn education. This is 

 the moment when you reap the fruits of all 

 your care and labour. In spite of the severity of 

 the pace, neither old nor young show the least 

 symptoms of flagging. 



The fiery flame of excitement with which you 

 started the gallop has now settled down to a 

 steady glowing heat. Every nerve and faculty is 

 strained to its utmost tension to attain one end — 

 the death of the fox. Your thirst for blood has 

 grown from a faint desire to a raging fever. 



With one eye on the pack and the other roam- 

 ing the country ahead for a sight of the form that 

 shall gladden your heart, you have little time to 

 note the fences you are jumping, or otherwise you 

 might hesitate to ride at some of them with a fast 

 tiring horse. He is skimming the binders un- 

 pleasantly close, and he clears the ditches with very 

 little to spare. 



M 



