12 THE MASTER OP THE HOUNDS. 



Miss Beauoliamp. The whole cavalcade were now on the move. 

 Will Beauchamp with the pack, and his two whippers-in, taking 

 the lead, and close behind them Mr. Beauchamp, Sir Francis 

 Burnett, and old Sir Lionel Markham, who had only just 

 arrived. 



" Why, Markham," exclaimed the squire, " we gave you up 

 as not intending to honour us this morning, and Constance said 

 she was sure you must be very ill, not to patronise her breakfast 

 table on our gala day." 



" No, Beauchamp ; thank goodness I am hearty and well, but 

 had some confounded long-winded business letters to write and 

 post to-day ; and thinking it very doubtful where our Parkwood 

 fox might lead us, I sat down and answered them at once ; but 

 they spoilt my appetite for breakfast. However, here we are, 

 just in the nick of time to see Will's darlings before they dash 

 into covert. By Jove ! Beauchamp, they are beauties, indeed ; 

 their coats like satin, and the very acme of condition, ribs well 

 defined, flanks light, and how gingerly too they step along, like 

 dandies in cork-heeled boots, heads here, heads there ; by Jove ! 

 sir, there'll be a scent to-day." 



" So say I, Markham ; and when once away, they will bid 

 you and me good bye." 



" Never mind, my old friend ; knowledge of country is half 

 the battle, and we shall, I hope, be there or thereabouts at the 

 finish. Now then, away they go, slap dash into covert ; one 

 wave of Will's hand, and not a hound is to be seen outside. 

 Beautifully done ! Yoic over, my lads, that's all — and away goes 

 Charley, sneaking along like his namesake, quickly but silently, 

 to the further end of the covert. Quick, open the gate into the 

 drive, and now see how they dash, and fly over the stuff — heads 

 up, too, by Jove ! they wind him — there's a fox on foot, I'll 

 swear. Hark ! Bounty has found him." 



" Hoic ! hoic ! " cries Will. In a minute the chorus is 

 complete, every tongue proclaiming the glad tidings that a fox 

 is found. 



" By Jove, what a crash ! they are close to his brush — and 

 now Will's scream, he is over the drive, mark how they dash, 

 and fling across into the high wood, in their wide-spreading 

 column, carrying everything before them. Go he must, or die." 



" Now, Burnett," cried Mr. Beauchamp, " put in the spurs, 

 and away to the opposite gate, at the further end of the drive ; 

 we old fellows will follow." 



The Leicestershire man was gone in a moment, and had just 



