112 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound 



These rides from covert to covert put every one on the best of 

 terms with liimself, excepting perhaps, an element who are 

 out for racing each other, and who have no taste for hunting 

 except the mad galloping part. But to those who are out to 

 hunt, it is one of the most enjoyable features of the game. 

 Horses and hounds are fresh. Anticipation and eagerness are 

 plainly stamped on the faces of all. 



It begins to look as if the second covert was also a blank, 

 when suddenly the musical wliimpers of Barmaid, then Vil- 

 lager, bring shouts of rejoicing from the riders all over the 

 wood and before the echoes have ceased in the treetops, the deep 

 mouthed Sampson has thrown liis tongue. "Hark to Sampson! 

 Hark to Sampson!" but every hound in the pack is already 

 rushing to join liim or to reach a spot just ahead of him, to 

 confirm the good news. On they go, "Ding-dong," go their 

 tongues, as one after another they feel the line until their joy- 

 ful notes swell to one grand chorus that fills the great wood 

 to overflowing. 



Tally-Oh! Tally-Oh! Gone away, Tally-Ho-gon-a-way. 



Now then, friend, we are off. Cram down your hat, take 

 your mount well in hand and ride to the limit of his pace, or 

 you may never see the stern of a hound again for the day. 



Isn't it glorious? The first burst of speed, when you are 

 feeling very fit, and your horse is feeling just a little above 

 himself? 



"Where now are all your sorrows, disappointments, wrongs? 

 All! All! are gone and in the rushing wind, 

 Left far behind/' 



"Listen !" asks a rider of his neighbour, "do you still hear the 

 hounds? No?" Then they have run out of hearing or have come 

 to a check. We hope it is the latter and so it turns out. But 

 what a gallop, twenty minutes on the grass! There is not a 

 horse or rider whose greed for pace is still unsatisfied. 



