9+ SKETCHES IN THE HUNTING FIELD. 



whiskers — sitting by himself outside the covert, through 

 which the remainder of the Hunt are wending their 

 ways. Crookton is well mounted on a powerful iron 

 grey, well up to his weight, and is tugging savagely at 

 the reins to prevent the animal from following his 

 companions, as he is disposed to do. 



On seeing that a general move was being made 

 through the covert, we mildly suggested that we had 

 " Better be getting on, perhaps r" 



" What for ? " he asks, conteniDtuously. " There 

 never was a fox here, and there never will be. When I 

 see a rascal like that man of Hawley's leaning over a 

 gate," and he nodded towards a keeper, who was look- 

 ing on, *' I know what it means, well enough." 



"But he says there was a fox this morning," some 

 one says. 



" I dare say he does, and very likely there was this 

 morning, and he knows where it is now. No. I'm not 

 going on any such fool's errand. What Akerton ought 

 to have done, as I told him, was to go to the Red Down 

 Spinney. My man saw a fox there yesterday, and 

 though Oldham is a bigoted Tory ass, at least he has 

 the grace not to shoot foxes. You'd better go, if you 

 think it worth while. I shall wait till you come out." 



We do think it worth while, and in we go. Before 

 Crookton has succeeded in convincing his horse that he 

 does not intend to follow into the covert a whimper 

 from Tuneable, quickly acknowledged by other hounds, 

 proclaims a find, and the fox breaks some hundred 



