THE HUNTSMAN in 



the last big shoot, the Derby favourite, any and 

 every subject is discussed and thought of save the 

 " Little Red Rover " who is just now making up 

 his mind how to reach the distant point he has in 

 his eye. Now a good fox " takes no thought about 

 the order of his going, but goes at once," as soon 

 as the coast is clear ; and if a huntsman means to 

 handle a good fox, it is necessary that he should 

 get away on the top of his back. So he gets his 

 hounds together, gives a few blasts on his horn, 

 crams it into the boot, and rattles along in the 

 wake of his hounds intent on the business of the 

 day. The field in a few moments arise to the 

 situation, and set off in wild pursuit, grumbling at 

 the huntsman's jealousy. " I did blow my horn, 

 sir, didn't I ? ' once asked a well-known huntsman 

 of me as we rode together. But it was no use my 

 telling the field that he had done so. They hadn't 

 heard him — if he had blown his horn they must 

 have heard him ! Such was the argument. He had 

 really been good enough to hear when one was out 

 of earshot of the chatter of some two hundred 

 people who were attending to everything but what 

 they should have been. Mind, I don't say that 

 there are not huntsmen who go away without blow- 

 ing their horns, and who like to slip away with their 

 hounds alone ; but I would point out that it is 

 impossible for a man to hear the horn if he persists 

 in keeping upwind of the huntsman. 



A huntsman is generally either too quick or 

 too slow. If he holds his hounds sharply on the 

 line which he knows by their manner that his fox 

 has taken, he is accused by the knowing ones of 

 lifting them. Yet the least knowledge of wood- 

 craft and attention to what was taking place would 



