404 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



different parts of the big woods, but scent in covert was worse than 

 indifferent, so not one could be brought to book. Deer Park was tried, 

 and at the end of two hours' patient work we were back in Galley Hills, 

 getting slack just when we ought to have been on the alert. At the 

 Monkhams end of the big woods Mr. Crocker luckily viewed a cub 

 crossing one of the rides, which hounds were able to press right through. 

 Over the big pastures towards Nasing Bury he was viewed stealing away. 



Down the two large grass fields charged the field, or those of them 

 (about a score) who were fortunate enough to be cognisant of what was 

 going on, and jumping out of the road at the bottom rose the big hill with 

 hounds running on their left. Dipping down once more (the whole of this 

 run was up and down hilb, the fox crossed just below Mr. Bury's house 

 in view of Mr. Bury and his wife, who were out on foot enjoying the fun. 

 Up the lane we clattered, those who had come by the fields and those who 

 had snicked in by the Coach and Horses, and then down hill they swept 

 over Mr. Taylor's Farm. 



Not liking this part of the country, the fox once more breasted the hill 

 and then retraced his steps over the road we had recently crossed, leaving 

 Nasing Ikiry well on the right. A momentary liesitation in the next grass 

 field, and they had hit it off over the brook quicker even than Bailey could 

 find a way over — a nasty slide down hill and four feet deep at the bottom, 

 it was not inviting, but quite Bailey's place. None did it better than 

 Capt. Bruce's grey Arab, none sooner than Col. Bonham, who was over 

 second, though his horse took a lot of persuading before he would tackle it. 

 What became of some of the rear guard can only be conjectured, for hounds 

 were running forward at a good pace, and Mr. Crocker coming down, 

 further blocked the way. 



In the meantime on the hill-top we came to a regular teaser in the 

 corner of a field you couldn't see over and you couldn't see through. Not 

 a loop-hole anywhere until Bailey ran his good little chesnut cob up an 

 ivy-clad bank, and pushing his way through the bushes on the top, he 

 hopped over the ditch beyond like a bird — each second it became easier, 

 plainer, and more defined. The Master, Col. Bonham, Capt. Bruce, and 

 the Admiral were certainly the first quartette over. Fences came quick 

 after this, a rail-guarded one yielding to Mr. Howard Fowler's chesnut 

 made it plain sailing for Mr. H. Sworder's cob to follow. 



Down in the bottom below Nasing schools we lost this good cub, who 

 had afforded such a delightful 20 minutes from the big woods. Many 

 thought the fun was over for the day, and they turned their horses' heads 

 homewards when we reached Nasing Park, but in the policies surrounding 

 the house a noted fox was known to harbour ; loth, indeed, was he to leave 

 them, but he streaked away when he did to such a tune, and so straight, 

 that he fairly elongated a hard-riding field on horses only half fit to 

 gallop. Going across the park it was no time for loitering, as hounds ran 

 parallel to the steep lane running up to Nasing hamlet, and only those 

 who had turned sharp back, and galloped their hardest, were in time to 

 see hounds stream over the road and enter the narrow plantation on 

 the left. 



Mr. Green and Mr. Lee chose the left-hand side Bailey and his 

 immediate following took the right, some barbed wire hindering the 

 leading section for a few moments until they found a gap under a tree. 

 Unlucky the man who came down, for at the splitting pace hounds were 

 going he was completely out of the fun. A few more fields and we reached 

 the road at Low Hill ; down it we galloped past the plantations that fringe 

 it, as hounds crossed our front, with Mr. C. E. Green, their nearest 



