A DAY'S BAG. 247 



merry run witli the dogs on foot. But we 

 never saw the boar, and the last half hour of 

 that noisy day I spent much to my own 

 satisfaction, feasting on ripe figs on a limb of 

 the tree which bore them, quite convinced that 

 however excellent Russian soldiers might be 

 at their own trade, with our host the gallant 

 old colonel to lead them, they had' as little 

 idea of carrymg a drive to a successful issue 

 as have Easter holiday-makers of stag hunt- , 

 ing. 



The bag that day was one roe deer, shot 

 by -the colonel, and the best hound of the pack, 

 shot clean through the shoulder, the best shot 

 made all day if only the hound had been the . 

 boar he was mistaken for. In mercy to his 

 feelino's the name of the dosf-shooter shall not 

 be recorded here, but I sincerely hope he 

 won't forget the debt of gratitude he owes the 

 kindly old colonel for the gentle way in wliich 

 he treated his offence. 



