248 SKETCHES IN THE HUNTING FIE ID. 



was wiping the perspiration from my forehead — the first 

 few gallops, particularly on a pulling horse, try a man 

 in rough condition — and looking round for the hounds. 

 The trampled grass, some gaps in a fence, and a muddy 

 track leading to the easiest way over it, gave unmistak- 

 able evidence that here they had been lately. It was 

 twelve o'clock, and rather past, however, and where 

 were they now ? 



" Hounds be gone down Chorlton Lane, sir," a rustic 

 grinned, seeing me standing up in the stirrups and 

 gazing, around ; so with a word of thanks to my in- 

 formant, I started off again for Chorlington. But though 

 the hounds had been in that direction they had diverged. 

 I soon lost the track, set off on a false scent, got hope- 

 lessly astray, and it was not until nearly three o'clock 

 that I suddenly came across a straggler bound for home, 

 and learning my direction from him, suddenly perceived 

 the hunt before me, at the end of a long slip of cover, as 

 I reached the top of a slight rise. Several of my friends 

 were among the men, but no Leonard. To have found 

 him would have seemed too much good luck considering 

 what a vein of ill-fortune I was working through at the 

 time ; so, instead of asking where he was, I simply 

 remarked that he was gone, of course ? 



" Yes," cheerfully replied one of his cousins ; " he left 

 about a quarter of an hour ago. He's bound for town. 

 Off racing to-morrow, I think he said." 



"That's just what I want to see him about par- 

 ticularly. Can I catch him, do you think ? No, thanks, 



