A RUN WITH THE 

 "Flats," and scent falls light and 

 catchy. Slow hunting here becomes 

 the order of the day, with now and 

 then a sudden burst along some 

 grassy bottom. The field, though 

 much reduced in numbers, is more 

 than ever keen, and follows close- 

 too close upon the hounds. 



" Now, Wanderer, my lad, what is 

 it ? Lame ? " No, worse ! Ay, 

 poor old hound, he leaves the line, 

 with drooping head and stern, and 

 walks aside, just glancing up, as if to 

 say, " Don't mind me, old friend, go 

 on and see it out " ; and he flings 

 himself, quite helpless, down behind 

 a bush. A little Kaffir tending cows 

 close by agrees to nurse him, and, if 

 he lives, to bring him home ; but 

 the hunt will never see old Wanderer 

 66 



