IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 377 



as she does when the scent is not quite fresh 

 enough ; bursting with the restrained desire to 

 throw her tongue, she emits something like a 

 stifled whimper. But the hare had a long start, 

 and it was only a coldish line that hounds could 

 pick out down through the brushwood, across a 

 muddy lane and field beyond, through another 

 covert, and finally across a field of young wheat to 

 a rocky mound covered with thorn bushes. Here, 

 after a quarter of an hour's patient trying, I gave 

 it up and went on. But before I had gone a 

 couple of hundred yards, Dorothy's deep note 

 recalled the others. I splashed up a filthy lane, 

 and by a cattle-shed I met old Fezo Zaklan, before 

 referred to. Before we had finished Jmlco te-ing,* 

 the hare left the rocky hill and crossed by the 

 other end of the shed, the two puppies, who 

 had probably caught a view, coming neck-and- 

 neck full cry behind. I was across the lane, and 

 round the thicket above (studded, by the way, 

 with Bogumile gravestones) in a minute, but 

 the little fellows were already away on the far 

 side. (The question as to drafting " Fox," which 

 had been exercising my mind for some time, was 

 answered in the negative by now.) The hare, 

 however, had run through a flock of sheep, which 

 checked the puppies, and let another couple come 

 up. The girls shepherding pointed out a biggish 

 * Kako te = How are you ? 



