A VERY TAME STAG HUNT 41 



the two -feet grips that drained the grassy waste flanking 

 either side of the road in gallant style. When the cry 

 of the hounds had died away and the last of the road 

 potterers disappeared from view, I, imagining that we 

 had seen the last of the hunt for that day at least, 

 suggested to Barker that luncheon was a most excellent 

 institution ; and with appetites sharpened by the keen 

 country air we set off on a bee-Hne across plough and 

 meadow towards the George Hotel. Very soon our way 

 was barred by a particularly thorny, quickset fence 

 bordering a narrow bridle-path. I was in the act of 

 hauHng my companion through a gap in the hedge when 

 the pattering sound of " slots " caused me to turn my 

 head, and then, to my surprise, I saw the stag quietly 

 trotting down the lane towards us. Upon sighting me, 

 he stopped dead and immediately began to browse upon 

 the short grass growing at the side of the pathway. 

 Nor did the " holloa " of Barker and myself alarm the 

 stag, or bring the hounds up to him. For some ten 

 minutes or more we holloaed until we were hoarse. At 

 length the sound of many hoofs, galloping up the bridle- 

 path in exactly the contrary direction to that in which 

 the stag had travelled, heralded the advent of the high- 

 way brigade led by the sporting auctioneer, who came 

 pounding along the rutty lane " hell for leather " shaking 

 his bridle-rein as though riding a closely contested five- 

 furlong scurry. 



" Why the dooce don't you fellers lay into him with 

 your sticks and make him run instead of holloaing Hke 



