138 FOX-HUNTING 



awful club, turned to another with a bludgeon 

 in his hand. ' The dogs never gav oos a 

 chance, they moordered him, not killed him.' 



Mr. nearly rode over one of the crowd, 



and on the nearly overridden one remon- 

 strating in forcible language, soothed him 

 with the remark, ' There'll be plenty more 

 left when you're done for,' which, however 

 unfeeling, was the naked truth. Another 

 scene of this unhappy day that gave a 

 momentary joy was that of two men on 

 bare-backed, hairy-heeled farm horses with 

 blinkers on. One said to the other, ' Blame 

 it all ! I wish we could get away from these 

 foot people ! ' ' 



Years ago, when I was a boy, it was not 

 a rare thing with the farmer's trencher-fed 

 pack with which I hunted to turn a fox down 



