THROWN OUT. 129 



met no one. At length a labourer, with a bundle of 

 faggots on his shoulder, came in sight, but " Noa, sur," 

 was his answer to my question whether he had seen 

 the hounds. This was some guide, but a very small 

 one, and turning a little aside from the way he had 

 come we trotted on until we reached the high road. 



" Seen the hounds ? " I asked the driver ot a waggon, 

 and the irritating answer, "Noa, sur," came out once 

 again. There in a field to the left are some men, and 

 up to them I ride and put my question. 



"Noa, sur; but I seen a fox. He came out of that 

 withy bed,' and run across the field," one of them an- 

 swered ; but I have no intention of going on a solitary 

 expedition in search of a fox, and once more pursue my 

 lonely way. A big town is not far in front ; into this 

 and over a bridge we go, and then into the country 

 beyond. Possibly we may be more lucky this side of 

 the river. 



" Seen the hounds ? " I once more ask a labourer. 



" Oi bleeve ounds goa up sheepen ood," he answers. 



" What do you say, my man r " I ask in a friendly 

 way, for there may be some information under this 

 mystic utterance. 



"Oi bleeve ounds goa up sheepen ood way a," he 

 answers slowly, and I feel that a continuance of the 

 conversation can be hardly productive of any beneficial 

 results. 



"Ah! yes, thank you," I answer, and go on my 

 unenlightened way. 



