18 A MEDLEY OF SPORT 



woollen shirt, which, in the scurry across country, had 

 managed to work itself free from the grip of the leathern 

 belt that he used to keep up his nether garments. 



" She must be off her pad " (i.e. out of her habitat), 

 explained Denis, with decided confidence. 



" Begorra she is, Denis," added Pat Lynch, who came 

 up at that moment, clothed in a coating of black and most 

 unsavoury mud. " An' she'll never be on it again wanst 

 we've done wid her." 



Denis lost no time in getting to work again, and 

 making a cast forward he very soon had his hounds on 

 the line once more. His skill as a huntsman was warmly 

 applauded by his admirers. 



" Takes old Denis, yet," proudly remarked one of the 

 field to Pat Lynch. 



" An' if he couldn't, who could ? " retorted Pat. 

 " Didn't his ould father before him break his leg jumping 

 a ditch afther the hounds, an' didn't he sit down that very 

 minute on the ditch and spUce it, an' was in at the death ? " 



" Go along, Pat ; you got out of the wrong side of the 

 flax-hole this morning." 



" Sure an' it was a wooden leg he had," slyly added 

 Pat, as he sailed away in the wake of the pack as fast as 

 his waterlogged condition would allow. 



On and on raced the " currant-jelly dogs " harder 

 than before in a " catch-us-who-can " sort of style, the 

 weedy harriers outpacing and stringing away far ahead 

 of their smaller cousins, the foot-beagles. Not a few 

 of the less game members of the field began to lag per- 



