The Homely Atmosphere of the Point-to-Point 



child-length stirrups, makes one wonder. Crowds surge 

 through the gap. Horses are led out. Riders are 

 inundated with instructions which are invariably for- 

 gotten before the first fence is reached. People are 

 everywhere : the main assembly on the hill, big gather- 

 ing at the starting flags, banks are lined and fields 

 studded with them ; and further on, two knots of people 

 are grouped, with the first fence between them like the 

 chain of a cuff-link. Down by the first flags, the Starter, 

 who is the local Master of Hounds, waits to receive his 

 silk-clad charges. Eventually, he gets the plunging, 

 rearing, impetuous handful into a fairly satisfying straight 

 line and then sends them off on their cross-country 

 journey, with the most appropriate note imaginable a 

 rousing " GONE AWAY ! " on his hunting horn. 



89 



