148 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 



our Squire, Will often consulted his watch to 

 regulate our pace, so that we should be at the 

 fixture exactly at the time named ; and as we 

 approached Duvale village, the church clock 

 was striking the hour of ten. Turning on to 

 a patch of green, where a few geese and a 

 lonely dejected-looking donkey cropped the 

 meagre herbage, and a host of round-faced 

 chubby children played, and madly screamed 

 with joy to see us arrive, we formed a group 

 around Will's horse in eager expectation of 

 the Squire's coming. The hum of the last 

 stroke had scarcely ceased, when the sharp 

 pit-a-pat of a horse's feet was heard, and 

 immediately afterwards the Squire came 

 cantering up, accompanied by three or four 

 of his friends. 



I was glad to see that the field comprised 

 those only who hunted regularly with us, and, 

 although many of them were generally too 

 anxious to get forward, and thought of little 

 more than showing well in the first flight, yet 

 there was no fear of much unsportsman-like 

 conduct on their part. 



Without the loss of a minute we trotted off 

 to our first draw, a long and narrow belt of 

 fir trees, with thick brushwood at the bottom. 



