THE AMATEURS KILL THEIR FOX 235 



Gilbey, H. J. Price, Mrs. Price, C. E. Green, A. R. Steele, Miss Steele, 

 A. Giles, Capt. Tufnell, J. Gingell. 



On Saturday, November 26th, hounds met at Harlow. Barnsleys, the 

 first covert into which they were thrown, although only a stone's throw 

 from the kennels, held a fox, as surely as the Master held an eager field from 

 galloping up the middle ride ere hounds had had time to clear the covert. 

 What a screaming scent there was as the bitches lashed forward for Harlow 

 Park ! Well might Georgie Dawson shake his grey cob out and gallop for 

 all he was worth, and the pink-clad one whisk over the chained gate ere 

 they struck the Common. But the skill of huntsman could not prevent the 

 pack dividing as they rattled their hunted fox round the covert, and roused 

 several other members of his marauding race. Six-and-a-half couple of 

 hounds going away after one of them over a fascinating line of country, 

 with just eight followers in pursuit ; the rest of us sticking to the huntsman 

 and the majority of the pack as they drove their fox out of Harlow Park, 

 and eventually raced him over the open to Parndon Woods, and without 

 dwelling there came away and struck Nasing Common, near the Lodge 

 Farm. 



The Common rode well, but most of us made for the headland under the 

 boundary hedge, and with hounds smeusing through the fences parallel to 

 us on the left, we could just hold them to Nasing Coppice in spite of the 

 piping scent. A look towards IMr. NichoU's Farm, an ex-master standing 

 in the gateway ; Mr. Harry Sworder on the grey having a look at a broad 

 ditch ; the huntsman saying it would do if you put the pace on, and getting 

 over all right, but with no room to spare ; one after another following the 

 example of Mr. Newman Gilbey's horse as he obstinately whipped round at 

 some subsequent rails with a slippery take-off, and a field well tailed out ere 

 Deer Park was reached, are visions that rise before me as I pen these notes. 

 The huntsman's and !Mr. Avila's corner was the best after all. Round or 

 through Deer Park at the gallop — which you liked — we met at the narrow 

 bridle gate. Into the green lane running from Galley Hills, and entered the 

 wood to cry of hound, but not before one lady* was rescued from a perilous 

 position which, thanks to her perfect nerve and presence of mind, was not a 

 difficult matter. With more pace the thoroughbred black would never have 

 hung in the binder ; without cool self-possession on the part of horse, rider and 

 rescuer, the inevitable and bad fall must have taken place. "Twas well and 

 gracefully done, sir, as with strong arm you drew the imperilled one on to 

 terra Jirma. And then with a fox, possibly a fresh one, away for the Copped 

 Hall country, too far ahead of hounds to permit of their pressing him, we 

 eat our sandwiches in peace in Spratt's Hedgerow. 



Yes, Mr. Bromskill was right when he said horses had had a good day's 

 work ere Parndon Woods were reached at something after three, for the 

 going was deep and the air oppressive and heavy from the dank mist that 

 clung to and saturated every hunting coat and skirt. x\ second horse was 

 a boon — nay, a necessity — on such a day. Parndon Woods always have 

 been, and methinks always will be, one of my favourite coverts while Mr. 

 Todhunter and Mr. James Green hold sway over them. Six times out of 

 seven you'll find there, and the foxes are real wild flyers, and none of your 

 hand-reared cubs ; and perhaps the glorious uncertainty of getting away on 

 terms with hounds when they leave these big woodlands gives an added 

 zest and charm to any run when your lucky star is in the ascendant and all 

 goes well. 



* Mrs. Grossman. 



