136 HOUND AND HORN 



till I was blue, my two companions cracking their 

 whips, rating till they were hoarse, and riding their 

 tired horses for all they were worth, produced seven 

 and a half couple of surprised hounds, while the rest 

 pursued with a vigour and a vehemence worthy of a 

 better time and occasion. 



" It's no use, Ben ; Mr. Stewart and you will have 

 to go back and try to stop them and bring them on to 

 Dr3^slade farm." 



Only those who have tried it can know what an 

 exasperatingly slow process it is to coax tired-out fox- 

 hounds with a leg-weary horse along a strange road, 

 especially when their heads are turned away from 

 home, and when you have no one putting them on 

 from behind. Stiff, chilled, and dispirited, I crept 

 along by slow yards, blowing a dejected note on the 

 horn at intervals, musing on the alternating joys 

 and misfortunes of the day, attempting to realise the 

 predicament in which I was placed, and picturing the 

 sort of appearance I would cut next day with only 

 half a pack of hounds. 



A faint '* Hi, woa ! " came from the distance ; a 

 figure showed in the dusk running across the fields ; 

 then a friendly voice shouted : '' Stop, Maister. A've 

 been watchin' ye a' day," it panted, '' an' A've seen the 

 feck o' the hunt ; ye've hed a lang sair day, an' ye 

 maun bei gey hungery an' awfullies droi, and me an' the 

 wife's socht ye a basket." It was dear old Andrew 

 Waugh, and the basket was a generous supply of 

 scones, and oatcakes, and cheese, and currant loaf, 

 and butter, and a decanter of whisky, and glasses. 



** Dod ! bit er ye a' yersel ? What hae ye dune 

 wi' the rest o' them ? " said the honest fellow, as he 



