76 TALES OF PINK AND SILK. 



up rush more hounds to verify her announcement of a find. 

 Then, just as the whole pack crash out with a grand chorus 

 of canine music, a shrill scream and a " Gone away ! " from 

 down wind conveys the intelligence that the fox has faced 

 the open at the bottom corner. " Get away, hark ! get away 

 on for'ard," and the Master plays such a solo on the horn as 

 the old woods have never heard before, and dashing down a 

 ride, with many cries of " Huntsman, please ! Let your 

 huntsman get to his hounds, if you please," gallops through 

 an open gateway and is soon in hot pursuit of the flying pack. 



" All on, sir ! " says Mason, and the run has commenced. 

 What a scent ! Heads up and sterns down, they race nearly 

 mute for two fields, Avheel slightly to the right, and, descend- 

 ing a slight incline, point for the undulating sea of grass, the 

 cream of the Hawthorn Dale country. 



The front division consists of about a score of choice 

 spirits, among whom are Lord Healingborough and his 

 sister ; the beautiful chestnut, handled to perfection by its 

 fair burden, sweeping along v/ith an easy stride and popping 

 over the fences like a bird. 



" Confound it ! " mutters his lordship, " he's taking us to 

 Rapsley Gorse ! " 



And so it seems, for that snug retreat looms in the dis- 

 tance, at the corner of which they see a black-bearded 

 gentleman in a tweed suit and butcher boots, mounted on 

 a jet-black horse. The pack run to within thirty yards of 

 where he is standing, check, swing themselves, and then, 

 with Adelaide at the head of affairs, dash off to the left. 



"Hang you, sir ! " shouts the Master, " you've headed the 

 fox ! If you don't know better than to stick yourself in 

 the Avay like that, you had better stay at home ! " 



The strangers eyes flash as he turns aside, and as the 

 pack settles doAvn to race with a breast-high scent, takes a 

 line of his own wide to the right of them. 



