BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT 



saying in a voice which could be heard by the Master of Fox- 

 hounds, but certainly not by the tufters, " Get away hounds, 

 get away ; ainH you ashamed of hunting of a stinking little 

 warmint, not half the size of yourselves ? Get away ! " Sam 

 still maintains his creed that his tufters were not on the fox, 

 and two minutes afterwards a yell announced that a different 



sort of animal was afoot. Another tally : Tom W 's 



voice, a guarantee that it is the right thing — for a good 

 yeoman is the best and truest stag-hunter that ever cheered 

 a hound. Every one is on the alert ; we ride forward, and 

 presently, in the distance, view, not a stag, alas ! but a hind 

 breaking towards the moor. " How is this, Tom ? You were 

 wrong for once." " No, Sir, not I ; I '11 swear it was a stag, 

 and a good one— but you see he has pushed up the hind and 

 gone down, and we must have him up again." So the tufters 

 are stopped again, and sent back on heel, and by and by that 

 unmistakable " yell " which announces a view is heard, and 

 this time the antlered monarch reveals himself to the whole 

 of the assembled multitude. It is but for a moment ; again 

 he seeks the depths of the covert, but the tufters rattle him 

 along, and are so close that he has no time for playing tricks, 

 and beyond all doubt must now face the open. We ride 

 towards the spot where in all probability he will break, and as 

 the voice of the hounds comes nearer and yet more near, you 

 may almost hear the pulses of the throng of spectators standing 

 by the gate of that large oat-stubble beat with excitement. 



' Hark ! a rustle in the wood, then a pause. Then a rush, 

 and then — in his full glory and majesty, on the bank separating 

 the wood from the field, stands the noble animal ! Look at 

 him — mark his full, thoughtful eye — his noble bearing. Look 

 at his beamed frontlet — how he bears it — not a trace of fear 

 about his gestures — all dignified and noble, yet how full of 

 thought and sagacity. He pauses for a minute, perfectly 

 regardless of the hundreds at the gate who gaze upon him. 



' You need not fear that he will be " blanched," that is 

 headed, by the formidable array drawn up to inspect him. 



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