SOME HUNTING STORIES 213 



calf, but they finally sat down quite declining to 

 think of hunting. 



The Master remarked bitterly that we might 

 as well be after Patsy, so we went, to find him just 

 getting through a barbed wire entanglement on 

 his hands and knees. 



He replied hotly to recrimination. 



He had the rag dipped in ile, he'd take his oath 

 to it. Paraffin ile wos it ? It was not, but from 

 a can of linseed they had for the calves. 



A mild chase and pursuit of a hare was the 

 wind up of this particular Patrick's Day hunt. 



The pack were shortly afterwards given up as 

 too expensive. 



A great many years ago a young soldier quar- 

 tered here used to teU the story of his first day 

 with the Limerick hounds. 



Possessed of more pluck than experience he 

 went to a local horse dealer, from whom he hired 

 a horse, a small, poor, but not ill-shaped bay. 



This little beast he rode out gaily to the meet 

 which was twelve miles off, and miscalculating 

 the time to do the distance in, had to hammer it 

 along as the fast trappers of those pre-motor days 

 flashed past him. The hireling had probably seen 

 oats for a fortnight, the ominous click of forging 

 was already sounding when he got to Croom. 



Here they had an indifferent morning, but 

 finally found at Croom Gorse and ran past to Dohora 

 and on to Liskennit. 



