Cubbing Again ! 



a shot-gun, gin-traps or poison would achieve the result 

 and exterminate the breed of Reynard in a very short 

 time : in a much shorter time than hounds ever would; 

 for actually, with the average packs, the ratio of kills 

 to the number of runs leaves a big margin in Reynard's 

 favour. 



Foxhunting is almost one of the fine arts, and a good 

 huntsman needs a rare dash of artistry for his task. He 

 is pitting his wits against an opponent who, from time 

 immemorial, has been recognised the world over as one 

 of the cleverest and wiliest of animals. In this 

 contest of wits lies the kernel of this manly sport that 

 is as clean and as noble as our ageless hills. 



Soon we will be entering on another foxhunting season. 

 That little postcard reads : 



" Tuesday, 6th instant, The Beech Wood, 7 a.m." 

 Reading its simple message one can almost see the 

 stately beeches slowly divesting themselves of their 

 misty shrouds on a September morning : cheerful 

 scarlet among the dew-drenched laurels ; hound-dapples 

 flashing through the tangled undergrowth; a brown 

 shadow slipping away to his far-off hills. One can 

 almost hear the clink of bit-bars, the crackle of twigs, 

 the screech of a startled magpie and the opening note 

 of a trusty hound. 



But most of all I seem to hear the horn, the staccato 

 twanging of the copper as it electrifies the countryside 

 with a rousing " Gone Away ! " 



Truly, no fanfare of trumpets could herald more 

 appropriately the arrival of a new hunting season. 



181 



