EN ROUTE TO GALWAY. 121 



CHAPTER VT. 



EN ROUTE TO GALWAY. 



" YoiCK ! Yolck ! Yol I Get away, hark to Tell-tale !'* 

 shouts Will Freeman, in Punchestown covert. " This 

 ought to be a good scenting-day — cloudy, and a 

 southerly wind, too," remarks my nearest neighbour. 

 "They have found," says Mr. Fleetwood Rynd, who, 

 well mounted as usual, is standing in his stirrups look- 

 ing over the covert-bank ; and in a moment afterwards 

 we hear a whimper, the " music rose in snatches, "-and 

 after a few minutes more have elapsed, every hound 

 joins in a chorus ; the spiny gorse is waving to and 

 fro, as we all get as close as we can to the hunting- 

 gate, and are on the qui-vive. Captain R. Mansfield is 

 stationed in the gate, and says quietly : " He has stole 

 away," as he sees Lord Clonmel, mounted on his 

 beautiful chocolate chestnut, at the lower end, on the 

 race-course side, with his hat in the air. " Gone 

 a-a-way, gone a-a-way !" shouts Will Freeman, and 

 he cheers the hounds to their fox. 



'* Hold hard, hold hard !" cries Captain R. Mans- 

 field, as he pulls across the pass-way (he goes well, but, 

 like a good sportsman, he likes to give hounds a 

 chance). The "field" is steady for a few moments, then 

 we hear the horn and crush through the narrow gate, 

 several in their haste gallop past Byrne's house, and 

 on to the Grand-stand, thinking that reynard, as is 



