HUNTING THE WILD RED DEER. 217 



been possessing their souls in patience so long. The hounds are 

 set free, and the huntsman takes them off by paths he knows well 

 to the distant moor. By the time they reach the spot where Jack 

 stopped the tufters, twenty minutes, half-an-hour, possibly an hour 

 may have passed since the deer went away. But they feather on 

 the line at once, own to it with a whimper that swells into glorious 

 melody as they feel the " titillating joy " of sweet scent that clings 

 to the heather ; and now you may ride, for they will take some 

 catching if you are far behind them when they breast the next hill. 

 Men who have been long at this game do not try to go straight 

 down and up the steeps, where loose " shillets " clatter under hoofs 

 at every stride, if they can get round more quickly and easily by 

 skirting the Coombe. Following hounds over such a country, 

 with its alternations of deep valleys, rugged ravines, and soft, if not 

 boggy ridges, is an art that can only be acquired by practice, as 

 many a Leicestershire man has found to his cost after riding his 

 horse to a standstill in vain endeavour to live with hounds that 

 seem to go so slowly. The pack will stick to their hunted deer, 

 though he may run through almost interminable woodlands 

 haunted by other herds. Though often at fault, these hounds turn 

 quickly to every note of their huntsmen's horn, and puzzle out the 

 tangled thread of scent again and again with wonderful sagacity, so 

 that a stag once found rarely shakes them off. If he do not take 

 refuge in the sea they will " set him up " before nightfall in some 

 shadowy pool with his back to a rock, where he must fight for his 

 life. And he does fight gallantly, with no trace of fear for the foes 

 that clamour fiercely round him. When he takes to the sea by 

 Bossington or Porlock or beautiful Glenthorn he swims so well that 

 no hounds would ever overtake him if boats were not at hand to 



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