190 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound 



"No ships with wind and tide. 

 And all their canvas wings. 

 Scud half so fast." 



We gain the hill, pass the wood and away again, crossing 

 another vale. The blood of my Irish mount is up and go he 

 will. The stag had taken to water in a small pond in front 

 of some gentleman's home. It was a bad move, for now the 

 hounds were upon him and raced him from scent to view, 

 back through the httle village of the meet. Finally they 

 brought him to bay, in the outer entry of a httle chapel in an 

 adjoining town. Facing the hounds, he stood them at bay. He 

 was soon secured and we all went back to our hotel at Leighton 

 Buzzard, where one of the best of dinners was served alike to 

 Earls and farmers, Dukes and traders. 



