PETER PIGSKIN 157 



ance that is. As if any man with the feeUngs of a 

 sportsman within him, and the feelings of anything 

 like a horse below him, was ever satisfied with such 

 a snatch of pleasure as that. Nevertheless, Peter 

 used to try it. " Pll just see them find," he used to 

 say to himself, as he pulled out his great watch, and 

 followed the hounds into cover, observing as he went, 

 "there's plenty of time to ride to Wall House or 

 Kirkland after." 



Hark to Joyful ! Hark ! she's on the drag. " Have 

 at him good bitch I " halloos the Huntsman, and Peter's 

 frame shakes w^ith emotion. Now they get together, 

 and the old grove echoes their cry a hundred-fold. 

 Peter presses his hat firmly on his brow, with a half 

 sort of inkling that he may as well see them away 

 from the cover. Now they go full swing ! Reynard 

 has run the cover's utmost limits, and dare not break. 

 The hounds are yet " too near," as Beckford would 

 say. The music ceases ! The fox has slipped back, 

 and the hounds have overrun the scent. 



" Tallyho ! " halloos the second Whipper-in from 

 the far end of the cover, and "Tallyho " is hallooed, 

 and re-echoed, and repeated, till every living thing 

 is alarmed. 



The Huntsman's horn goes twangs twangs twangs as 

 he gallops through bush and briar to the halloo. The 

 hounds strain their utmost powers to overtake him, 

 and horses and men are in a delightful state of 

 excitement. Peter Pigskin forgets all about the 

 barley for malting, and settling himself as well in his 

 saddle as shorts and continuations will allow, crams 

 and hustles away with the best. Peter was always a 

 man of first-class nerve, and first-class nerve makes 

 a second-class horse go uncommonly well. More- 

 over, a man who is only going to take an instalment 

 of a run — say five shillings in the pound — always 

 thinks he may as well have it as good as he can get. 

 Away they go over the hill, now down the vale, and 



