HUNTING 151 



huntsman, Jean, was an old Frenchman who 

 I fear, occasionally had recourse to something 

 stronger than vin ordinaire. He wore a very 

 fine red coat with collar and cuffs of pale blue 

 cloth trimmed with silver braid. With a 

 gigantic brass horn round his body, on which 

 he tooted all day long, he was the ideal of a 

 French chasseur. 



Dense, broad, and long as are the forests of 

 the Gironde, there was no possibility of losing 

 one's self so long as old Jean had any wind in 

 his body. Not that his horn meant taking 

 one to hounds, for his favourite place was at 

 the rear of the field, but as we frequently ran 

 a circle this did not much matter. 



One of the hounds, by name "Fonglas," ran 

 so much faster than any of the others that he 

 was made to wear a heavy collar of lead to 

 weight him. The Master and Jean were con- 

 stantly calling out " Ecoute, ecoute, Fonglas," 

 which we supposed was the French equivalent 

 to " Hark to, Fonglas " ; so despite the leaden 

 collar Fonglas always led the pack. 



The foxes were kept in a large enclosure 



