80 REMINISCENCES OF A HUNTSxMAN. 



the hounds after the day was over, as it only un- 

 settled them; I therefore beckoned Baldwin to proceed. 

 The si"-n was useless ; an order which I shouted had 

 no more effect; instead of quitting the roof of his 

 cart and resuming the road, to my rage as well as 

 astonishment, John commenced a sort of war-dance 

 on the top of it, waving his cap and flourishing his 

 pig whip as a painted barbarian might be supposed 

 to do his club, his signs for me to " come on " being 

 still more energetic. John lived, and I believe still 

 lives, on beer and gin, and I began to think he was 

 drunk; but on coming nearer I heard a voice of 

 supplication froui within the cart, accompanied occa- 

 sionally by a strange rumbling bolting sound, which 

 often cut short the man's imploring voice ; it was in 

 fact the limited charge of the angry stag at the OAvner 

 of the voice whenever he moved. On nearing the 

 cart John drowned all other noise in the following 

 address to me : — 



" Master ! Master ! come on and take yer rewenge ! 

 I've heered as you've been struck, an I've got the 

 feller what did it. Here a is," he cried, stamping in 

 triumph on the top of the cart, " along with the stag, 

 and the stag's been a butting on him, terrible ! I'll 

 uncart him, and you whop 'un well." 



While John made this speech, I could see the 

 man's mouth at one of the air-holes of the cart, 

 and hear him begging for forgiveness, and taking the 

 most solemn oaths that he had never touched me, 

 every now and then the staggering, bolting sound of 

 the butting deer, cutting short his sentences. Hav- 

 ing ordered the bargeman's release, out tumbled a 

 great stout fellow the picture of woe, inducted to 

 the open air by John with the following words: 



