The Genesee Valley 105 



Before we reach the kennels the hounds have "winded" us 

 and their music begins. They are standing in twos and threes, 

 with their noses pressing the cracks in the high board fence 

 surrounding their court. Those who detect in the air the 

 approach of strangers, are barking Kke watch-dogs, but the 

 older hounds who also discover in it the approach of the Master, 

 are baying to it with joyous exclamations in anticipation of 

 the unkenneling which is sure to follow. 



Buttry's voice outside the kennels rises above the hound 

 clamour witliin, and the tumult gradually ceases with a few 

 sharp barks, mutterings and smothered growlings, that can't 

 stop altogether when it once gets started. 



The entry room — Buttry's room — contains almost every- 

 thing from coupling irons to distemper cure, that a hound is 

 ever likely to require and with closets for everything. We 

 are helped into a kennel coat, a sort of linen duster that comes 

 down to our ankles to prevent the hounds — if inclined to be too 

 demonstrative — from soiling our clothes. 



The INIaster fills liis pockets with oatmeal biscuits and leads 

 the way to the south wing of the kennels — the bitches' 

 quarters. They are all outside in the open court. Buttry, who 

 is inside the kennel, goes to the door and holding it open wide 

 enough for one hound to enter at a time, begins drafting them 

 in for our inspection. "Blue Bells! Blue Bells!" is the first 

 to be called, and that beautiful bitch comes crowding her way 

 through the feathering, jostling pack and trots joyfully up 

 to the Master to seek in his outstretched hand the bit of biscuit 

 she knows so well is there to reward her. "This is Blue Bells 

 by Blue Boy, out of Bonnie Lass, the best hound I ever saw. 

 Blue Bells is marked like her grandsire and has the same 

 fastidious kennel habits as her dam." 



Barmaid comes next in order, and is poking her sensitive 

 nose into the INIaster's hand before he is aware of her presence. 



"This is a daughter of Bartender," explains our INIaster, "a 



