114 Random Recoli^ections of the 



the congratulations of two hundred foot people, 

 turned sharply back. Re-crossing the stream 

 (how small you feel when this happens, par- 

 ticularly if there's about three feet of sludge 

 in the place) hounds held a shadowy line 

 towards Berry Gorse, when Gillard made a 

 capital cast and the pack pushed on vigorously 

 over the Leesthorpe road near Wild's Lodge, 

 where a forward rider got an ugly purler, but 

 was up in a trice and didn't loose much ground. 

 The pack ran at a good pace across the road 

 near Stapleford, and thence rattled along the 

 happy hunting grounds that lay in the way 

 to Whissendine. Before reaching the village 

 there was a check, a countryman with his hat 

 aloft on a hill, and those who knew the country 

 cried " Ranksboro', for a hundred." Their 

 prediction was verified, as hounds traced the 

 line into covert. In the thicket were other 

 foxes, eight couples of hounds getting away 

 with a fresh one and hunting him by Cold 

 Overton to Somerby. The second whip had a 

 hard task to get them in hand, for they were 

 right in the heart of the Cottesmore country, 

 and Gillard was in covert with the other 

 moiety. But stolen fruits are sweet, there 

 were riders who enjoyed the clandestine gallop 



