Chapter VIII. 



HANDING OVER THE HOEN. 



T CANNOT explain all that it meant to me 

 when I at last realised that the time 

 had come for me to hand over the horn to 

 somebody else. The year 1889 was the last 

 season I hunted my pack, making a clear 

 half century during which I carried the 

 horn. 



That was a pretty good innings, I must 

 admit; far longer than it is permitted many 

 men to enjoy such a privilege. And what 

 days we had seen during those fifty years — 

 what runs, what sport ! 



I met with an accident when a lad, in 

 which I injured my right leg. Little was 

 thought of it at the time, and certainly I 

 cannot complain that the injury had thus 



