"here's a picture for you now!" ig3 



bv the village, but Thatcher lifts them across the road to hunt 

 rnore slowly down to the brook beyond ; two nice fences and 

 the bridge handy give us a good place with the pack as they 

 take up the running on the big pastures below Manton Gorse. 

 That well-known covert affords no shelter for foxes this year, 

 and leaving it to their right, the bitches drive on over the 

 grass as if they had only just started. ' Hullo ! here's that 

 belt of trees we see in Giles' picture.' We crawl in over the 

 ruined wall and jump out beyond, getting the worst of the 

 turn as they swing away right-handed over the brow, and come 

 down to the Manton brook at an ugly place ; but there is no 

 time to be lost when they run like this. Boore has his nippers 

 out in a twinkling. ' It isn't a picture when you have cut the 

 wire ' Massey sugi*ests, and Thatcher, seeing the wisdom of the 

 remark, jumps the fence to the left, and crossing higher up joins 

 his hounds as they set their helm for Orton Park Wood, three 

 good miles ahead. Here's a picture for you now ! I'll stake 

 my hat you can't beat this ! Eighteen couple of those fleet 

 little ladies racing ahead ; plenty of room to gallop and jump, 

 the pink of Leicestershire before you, and fourteen good miles 

 already behind. This may fall to your lot but once in a life- 

 time ! 



There's a scent in covert, too, and the pack drive through so 

 quickly that Thatcher is only just in time to catch them 

 beyond, and some of us who follow his boy down past the 

 right of the wood nearly get left for our pains. Three fields 

 beyond they are at fault, and for a moment it looks as if Lady 

 Wood were the point, when a timely holloa on the brow 

 enables Thatcher to get them going again, and we thank our 

 stars that the pace is easier to Knossington ; there is a slight 

 pause by the right of the village, and as they carry the line 

 into the spinnies you have time to look around. Sixteen miles 

 I make it, and a good many have dropped out. Falls have not 

 been very numerous, though young Thatcher has taken a nasty 

 one, luckily without ill-effect. His father has been cutting out 

 the work, riding and handling his hounds in the most brilliant 

 form. Messrs. Gough, Massey and Mason, Major Schofield, 

 Captains Holland and Porter, Messrs. Fletcher, Mawson, 

 Gilillan and several others are there, but of the fair sex only 

 three have come with us to this point, the two Miss Mandslays 

 and Millie, while Mrs. Fernie, Mrs. Fletcher, Mrs. Gough, Mrs. 

 McKenzie and others join in here. For two or three minutes 

 hounds can be heard running the line in covert, and then 



N 



