102 THE ETON COLLEGE HUNT, 



the spot where the hunted hare has disappeared over a brow, 

 her arched back betraying her distressed condition, so that if 

 only hounds can get a view they must kill her. 



The game is well-nigh won ; but unfortunately the hounds' 

 heads are up, and, a fresh hare rising in their very midst, away 

 goes the whole pack, running the stranger in view. Really well 

 under control as they are, no amount of rating or horn-blowing 

 will stop them unless someone can get round them. Get round 

 them ! Alas, anyone who has run with beagles knows the 

 impossibility of this until hounds check ! It is, moreover, quite 

 likely that they will run without checking for at least twenty 

 minutes, and then what prospect will there be of recovering the 

 line of the hunted hare ? Some slight chance indeed there is, for 

 a tired hare always stops, so that, if any vestige of a line can be 

 shown, hounds may work up to and re-flnd her. Far oftener, 

 however, all trace has vanished, when they are brought back to 

 the spot where she was last seen. 



But let us describe a day's sport with beagles, starting with 

 the supposition that the master is sufficiently energetic to be up 

 and at it by six o'clock on a beautiful October morning ; for not 

 only are hares scarce in the district over which he proposes to 

 hunt, the consequence being that he will have a better chance of 

 a find by getting on the trail, but he also desires to give his 

 young entry the lesson for which running a hare's trail up to 

 her form is so admirably adapted. 



There has been rain, but it passed away on the previous 

 afternoon, and after a brilliant night the ground is covered with 

 a heavy dew. Our huntsman is wise to begin operations thus 

 early, for now scent is probably good ; whereas when the sun 

 has reached any height the atmospheric conditions will, as a rule, 

 become less favourable. 



Let us linger for a moment by the gate, where hounds are 

 clustered round their huntsman, some jumping up at him, and 

 others making an unprofessional use of their tuneful voices, a 

 transgression which, however, elicits but a faint-hearted rate, 

 for our huntsman loves his hounds intensely, and feels almost 

 inclined to encourage a breach of etiquette which only enhances 

 his already keen sense of enjoyment. 



It is a charming scene. A country roadside which forms the 

 boundary between some rough grass meadows leading down to a 

 stream on the one side, and a heather common on the other, 

 gently undulating towards a piece of water, to which the wild 

 duck are just coming in from the stream v/here they have spent 

 the night. Even now a few duck are to be seen overhead, the 



