114 MELTON AND HOMESPUN 



the farmer hurrying along the road leading to his home- 

 stead as though his Satanic Majesty were behind him. 



Upon approaching nearer we discovered that he was 

 splashed with mud from head to foot, his clothes were 

 rent in many places, whilst his face was scratched and 

 bleeding as though he had been dragged through a 

 Leicestershire bullfinch. 



The farmer looked particularly sheepish as he hurried 

 past us with "Morning, gentlemen, morning; just 

 been to look at my fat beast ies up in forty acres.'' 

 " What the devil has Sanders been up to ? " ejaculated 

 our companion, when the farmer had passed out of ear- 

 shot. " If I didn't know him well, I should have said he 

 had been on a poaching expedition." 



It was a grand hunting morning, and at least 300 

 sportsmen and sportswomen, of all sorts and conditions, 

 met at the cross roads, amongst whom was Sanders, very 

 smart in cords and butcher-boots and mounted on a 

 good-looking and well-bred chestnut mare. 



Just as the last stroke of eleven o'clock sounded from the 

 tower of the old grey Norman church hard by, the M.F.H. 

 arrived on the scene, and the beautifully level pack was 

 taken off to draw the Round Wood. Nor had they been 

 in covert two minutes when a challenge from old Amazon 

 was taken up by the rest of the pack, and in less time 

 than it takes to write it hounds were out of covert 

 and racing across a big grass field. But strangely 

 enough, not one of the score or so of men, who, waiting 

 within a yard of the spot whence the fox should have 

 broken, had viewed him away ; nor was the soul-stirring 

 cry of " Gone away ! Goo-ne awaaay ! " heard from any 

 part of the wood. There was no time, however, to com- 



