34 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



finch, and a dozen of the tail hounds waving their sterns as they eagerly 

 sought a way through the fence. We might even have caught sight of Mr. 

 Guy Gilbey liying the stile in perfect form, hands well down, legs tucked 

 back, as his horse bounded over like a deer ; but if we did these things 

 and allowed ten seconds, literally ten seconds, to elapse before we followed 

 him, the huntsman, or those who pierced the fence at the same time, we 

 might gallop and we might jump, but be with hounds we simply couldn't, 

 as going in and out of the lane they fairly flew over the grass beyond, 

 those pastures which always carry a scent to the brook at the bottom. 



They tell me that Mr. Guy Gilbey was the first to fly it, and that until 

 he fell he had the lead of them all, and that when he was down, his cousin 

 Mr. Newman Gilbey, picked up the piddle and played the tune for the rest to dance 

 to, as going a cracker, by Wynters Grange, no one could head him until 

 the hounds threw up near Belgium Springs. " One of the fastest and 

 sweetest things we have had this season," said Major Wilson and Captain 

 Bruce, who freely acknowledged the Gilbey lead. 



The country was dotted with riders in all directions ; every field had a 

 man, a lady or boy in it. Didn't we have a capital bird's-eye view of the 

 whole thing ? having dallied at that Lyall fence for a hat, a brand-new one, 

 but very dear at the price — the loss of such a run. What is the use of a 

 second whip if he can't recover your head gear ? Bravo ! Easterby ; you 

 have earned my eternal gratitude for the deft way you fished out A. J. 

 White's best, and came through the fence with it. 



In and out of the lane and down to the brook ! as we followed Mr. Avila 

 over and jumped out of the field beyond, didn't we for a moment hug 

 ourselves with the vain delusion that we had caught hounds at last, as the 

 huntsman hove in sight and galloped through the corner and flew the fence 

 out of the rough field behind the Grange. Not a bit of it ; the leaders — 

 Mr. E. Ball was one of them— were already over the road, and swinging 

 towards the Springs on the right. The huntsman's horse simply couldn't 

 go the pace ; but he caught hounds, when he was wanted, on the road 

 beyond Belgium Springs, where they had checked. 



In the meantime those who were behind the huntsman were trying to 

 keep him in sight, going in and out of Mr. Tucker's lane. Mr. Jones, who 

 was riding a slow horse, which he had been pushing along at top speed, 

 came down heavily, and this settled the rest of the gallop, for those who 

 went after his steed or stayed to see how he fared, Mr. Avila and Mr. 

 Bevan taking him in charge. Luckily, beyond a severe shaking, he was 

 none the worse, and pluckily remounting, rode to the end of the run, which 

 came to a sudden stop at Magdalen Laver Hall — twenty minutes exactly 

 from the halloa in Harlow Park. Mr. Sands was one of the lucky few who 

 saw this gallop from start to finish. He always liked a quick thing. 



Going back to Latton, we found again at once, a leash being on foot. 

 Unluckily, hounds settled on to a vixen, who, as she kept ringing round 

 Harlow Park and Latton, Mr. Arkwright determined to leave, and gave 

 the order for Parndon Woods, where at 3.30 p.m. the deep sonorous notes 

 of the big dogs proclaimed a find, one of the prettiest I have ever seen. 

 As the music increased in volume and force our ranks began to close up. 

 All were eager for a good start. The Master, on his grey, was guarding 

 the narrow strip between the wire and the wood, which would permit of 

 one horseman passing at a time. It was everything, therefore, to be ready 

 to take your turn. 



Patiently we all waited as each second hounds were driving their fox 

 nearer to the top corner, where a solitary man could be seen — the farmer, if 

 I mistake not, of the land that surrounds the S.E. side of the woods. 



