78 MODERN PIG-STICKING 



home to camp at sunset, tired and weary, with five good 

 boar accounted for and at peace with all the world. 



And now for the latter : 



A morning, clearing after a wet night, a gentle breeze 

 from the south-west, a steep hillside crowned with gorse, 

 and below, mile upon mile of grass country fenced with big 

 sound banks and stone walls. A small field, and hounds 

 are quickly in covert. A whimper, a crash of music, a 

 short pause while every hound gathers on the line, and 

 then " gone away " from the lower side of the covert a 

 wild rush and scramble down the hillside, and the fields 

 fall gradually into their places, behind and on each side of 

 the flying pack. 



Seven miles are covered, hounds are running almost 

 mute now, the few riders up are looking for easy places to 

 save tired horses when the pack with an eager cry fling up 

 their heads, as they run from scent to view a seething 

 mass of black, white, and tan. The huntsman whoop, and 

 another stout fox has met his end. And now who shall 

 compare ? 



One thing is certain, as fox-hunting is the best sport at 

 home, so is pig-sticking in India. 



Pig-sticking is all in favour of youth the environment 

 of the sport, and the inability of most of us to see red after a 

 certain age account for that. Whereas fox-hunting is a 

 game one hopes to carry on to the end, to see red would 

 only mean one saw but little else. What one loses with 

 youth, one should gain in knowledge and judgment. 



To sum up, if only for the sake of the country, and the 

 hounds, I would give it to the old country. 



A well-known cavalry soldier, after a season in 

 the Shires, wrote out to me last year, " It is very 

 good, but I feel I am sitting in the stalls at the 

 theatre. I long for a fighting boar." 



I quote some further remarks, the views of a 

 man who is really good after pig, but lacks, he says, 

 the judgment necessary in one who aspires to be 

 in the first flight at home. 



