82 A MEDLEY OF SPORT 



managed to see a good deal of the work done. So intent 

 was he, indeed, in watching the clever manner in which 

 Terry handled his pack, that he took no notice whither 

 the hunt was heading, until a group of gesticulating 

 rustics informed him that he was within sight of the 

 cottage of his friend, Pat Maloney, the gamekeeper, for 

 whom, we may here mention, he had as yet no message 

 regarding the sale of the tame vixen. 



" Whoa, me ould darlin' ! Hould hard, ye ugly, 

 cantankerous baste ! " exclaimed the veteran, as he 

 pulled up Kitty, who for some little time had been 

 wheezing out "bellows to mend." Then, having got 

 her to stand, he, from the safe harbourage of a tall clump 

 of thorns, watched the hounds pour over the garden 

 railings of the cottage in a living, dappled torrent, while 

 the keeper laid around him with a stout ground-ash 

 sapling. 



" Musha, an' it's the grand bit iv divarshin they're 

 havin' for a finish, but I'm thinkin', me darlin', we're 

 betther away from the quarrelsome blackguards," quoth 

 the rustic sportsman, as he fondly patted the ewe-neck 

 of the ancient chestnut. " But why didn't that omad- 

 haun, Pether, start the mangy varmint in some other 

 direction ; an' may the saints forgive me for givin' him 

 a shillin' that'd have brought a good half-dozen iv stout 

 for meself an' Micky," he continued, piously, as he 

 thought sadly of his ill-bestowed bounty. " Anyway, 

 here's good health to ye, Pat, but, sure, the gintleman 

 doesn't want the fox, an' I've seen it safe back to your 



