MORNING IN THE WOODS 71 



trusts to his pluck and speed. What cares he now 

 for the whipper-in's " tapping " or the crack of his 

 whip? He has got through the hounds somehow 

 and is off; let us drink his health, and the run 

 which he is sure to give us ere the budding trees 

 and hedges tell that the season of seasons is about 

 over. 



Meanwhile hounds, or those which were after 

 the cub in question, have flung themselves back 

 into the wood. Not very far off they hear some 

 of their comrades running hard, and off they go 

 " scoring to cry." You may get away from your 

 various posts now as soon as you like, for the end 

 is not far off. They catch a view at him as he 

 crosses a bit of open ground, but he reaches the 

 thick covert again. But scent serves, they are 

 close at him now, and in another minute they roll 

 him over, after a pretty woodland hunt of an hour. 

 And so home, well content, as one Pepys hath it. 

 And during the hot ride home how the pleasures 

 of memory and the pleasures of hope contend for 

 mastery. Memory tells us of what a good point 

 that promising young hound Fencible made when 

 hounds checked at a ride, and how he ran at head 

 with the confidence of a veteran, and tells us more- 

 over of the way in which the cub broke covert ; 

 whilst Hope brings a bright vision before us of the 

 same cub, when skies are grey, crossing the fine 

 grass country which is near his home, with sixteen 

 couples of the bitch pack in his wake, and ourselves 

 as near them as circumstances will permit. 



