286 MISS BADSWORTH, M.F.H. 



of the spectators who were running to get a further view 

 from higher ground. 



Joe Summers was returning from what he called "the 

 Hospital " twenty minutes later ; he was, as has been 

 stated, a methodical man, and this was the hour for a bit 

 of lunch. Suddenly he stopped to listen. " Hounds," he 

 muttered, " and running hard." Then he retraced his 

 steps and entered the " long paddock ". 



A long, narrow plantation sheltered that paddock and 

 several others from the north, extending for nearly half a 

 mile ; towards one end of this the old man walked. For a 

 minute there was silence. 



" They must have got away at exercise," Summers mut- 

 tered. " I expect they've stopped 'em. Bad riding, but it 

 isn't what you might call hard," digging his heel into the 

 turf. 



The sound of a horn dispelled this theory. " Lor', if they 

 ain't hunting ! Now they're right again." 



The old man was correct in his conjecture that a blown 

 fox had entered the plantation at the far end. Just beyond 

 it hounds in their eagerness had overrun the scent at the 

 point where their quarry had made a sharp turn to reach the 

 strip of covert. Lavvy had been down once, but was close 

 at hand to put them right ; they had come along at a great 

 pace without the semblance of a check. 



" For'rard, for'rard, for'rard ! " Summers heard in the dis- 

 tance, and his old eyes gleamed as the sound of hounds 

 running, which he loved so well, reached him. 



" It's terrible dangerous," he thought, but he could re- 

 member doing the same thing himself years ago. 



He kept his eye on the spot where the plantation ended, 

 thinking at any moment he would holloa the fox away. 

 Nearer and nearer the hounds came; Summers could hear 

 the crackling of the undergrowth and the sound of a gallop- 

 ing horse. 



" The fox must have gone before I came in sight," he 

 thought. " No, there he is." They overran him and he 



