MISS BADSWORTH, M.F.H. 285 



" Can we ride, Ned, do you think ? " 



"There's no frost in the ground to speak of, ma'am ; the 

 snow fell early." 



Lavvy glanced down, both packs were out — thirty- four 

 couples. 



A hundred yards further on the fox crossed the lane and 

 leisurely cantered over the adjacent field. 



" He's going across to the Home Wood at Cranston, Ned. 

 I wonder what sort of scent there is in snow ? Open that 

 gate, I'm going to try." 



The question of scent was answered the moment the 

 pack crossed the line of the fox. They swung on to it with 

 a rare burst of music, which drowned Lavvy's cheer, and 

 away they went. 



Jimmy Edwards at Tod's Farm was shooting some spin- 

 neys with some friends, and had just taken up his post at 

 the further end of one, when a fox, evidently in a hurry, 

 dashed through the fence close by him, and at the same 

 time a blood-stirring chorus of hound voices came from the 

 rising ground a quarter of a mile away. 



*' Durned if there ain't the hounds ! " he shouted to Jack 

 Morgan, who always made one of the party at Tod's Farm. 

 " They must have broken away at exercise." 



But this idea was soon dispelled by Lavvy's clear 

 " For'rard, for'rard ! " and the sight of three black-looking 

 figures who were getting along as best they could, using 

 gates and gaps whenever available, but without any attempt 

 to interfere with the chase. 



" What a scent there is ! There must be every hound 

 in the kennels there ! " Edwards said excitedly. " Lord, I 

 wish I'd got a horse instead of a gun!" 



" That's an awkward place down there," Jack said anx- 

 iously, watching the girl in front on the roan. " She's over ! 

 Bravo ! Bill's down ; no, up again." 



The hounds crashed through the little spinney and were 

 out the other side and away in a twinkling. The three 

 riders made a detour through the farm buildings, unaware 



