236 The Rabbit Battue. 



retired to dinner with the players, a regular " scrabble." All were 

 in high spirits, and everyone seemed as if he had made up his mind 

 to enjoy himself on this day at least. 



But, " Now then, gentlemen, it's time to be off!" brought us all 

 to our feet ; and "Who wants powder or shot?" "Have you got 

 any caps?" "Shah 1 we take old Pilot to-day, Joe?" "What 

 quarter of the forest shall we beat first?" and such like questions, 

 proved that the real business of the day was about to commence. 

 The forest where we are to begin lies about one mile from the 

 keeper's lodge, and we form a merry group as we walk up the 

 village lane towards it -, but one of the party is missing, and the 

 often-repeated question, " I wonder what's got young Tom Hardy 

 to-day ?" proves that the missing man is a general favourite ; and so 

 he may well be a proficient in every field sport, a capital shot, 

 and one of our best riders, and, moreover, the life and soul of every 

 village feast and harvest-home for miles round. Just as we are 

 turning into a hand gate which led from the village lane up to the 

 wood, a figure is observed, a few fields distant, working his way, on 

 a grey horse, across country towards us. We recognise him by his 

 white hat, and as he comes sailing over a hedge and double ditch, 

 leading into the field next but one to that in which we are now 

 standing, we can see his gun slung across his back. All eyes are 

 now centred upon this object of attraction, and many are the 

 speculations as to what he's on to-day. " Why, it's the grey colt," 

 exclaims the most far-seeing of the hard-riding lot who are now 

 intently watching how he will come over those rails in the corner, 

 which Tom has purposely ridden out of his line to have a shy at. 

 A balk ! But the grey colt is in hands which will stand no non- 

 sense j at the second attempt he charges them gallantly, and, 

 " That's you ! Well done, Tom !" as he lands safely in the large 

 hundred acres of old swarth, in which we are standing burst from 

 the assembled group, who have for the moment forgotten all about 

 the coming sport while watching the performance of the grey colt. 



Tom soon canters up, and after explaining to us, " that, as the 

 colt was a little fresh, and wanted handling, he thought he'd just 



