338 GUN, RIFLE, AND HOUND. 



Oare long before the days of James II. Indeed, 

 though advancing years have forced him to resign the 

 horn to younger hands, I dare say it would even now 

 be somewhat dangerous for Mr. R. D. Blackmore to 

 show his face in the domains of the last Squire of 

 Oare. 



Besides the natives there is a sprinkling of 

 regular visitors, who never miss their annual stag- 

 hunting on Exmoor, and some whom chance has 

 brought there. 



After hospitable entertainment a move is made, 

 the first draw being a covert known as Cornham 

 Brake. Here there was at least one fox, for hounds, 

 by heading first towards Duredon and then turning 

 short back, managed to throw out the bulk of the field, 

 who never saw them again. Grexy Ball, I am told, is 

 the name of the first ridge we top, and then we find 

 ourselves on the well-known Moles' Chamber, one of 

 the wettest and highest parts of the moor. Very 

 bleak and barren the short grass is here, too. We 

 are riding over treacherous ground indeed, intersected 

 as it is with small grips and drains. Several coats are 

 mud-plastered already, and there are a few rider- 

 less horses about. A bad job for their riders this, for 

 a horse lost on the moor is no joke, but the pace is 

 too good to afford assistance. Hounds have been 

 running very fast all this time, and when we emerge 

 on Bray Common our fox seems to have had enough, 

 for without apparent reason he turns short back and 

 retraces his steps for Grexy Ball, hounds running 

 harder than ever. Here he finds temporary shelter in 



