THE RUNNER 169 



the entry and the cub-hunting, on both of which 

 he is by no means a bad authority. But to his 

 credit be it said that on these occasions he never 

 breathes a word about the whereabouts of foxes. 

 On this point he is oracular, and on no account 

 will he be drawn to tell what he knows. For that 

 he does know is certain ; and there is little in 

 connection with the hunt and its management on 

 which he does not possess information or form a 

 pretty shrewd opinion of his own. But however 

 he may have obtained his information he is par- 

 ticularly discreet as to whom he imparts it, and 

 when hunt secrets become public property it is 

 rarely indeed that the dissemination of them can 

 be traced to the runner. The moment the field 

 begins to arrive social enjoyment is put to one 

 side. Assuming the cap of office, the runner takes 

 up his position on village green or in park, and 

 commences the serious business of the day. For 

 every one he has a friendly greeting, from the duke 

 to the farmer and tradesman he misses none, 

 though he has a very shrewd idea of the due order 

 of precedence, his pocket being a guide which 

 never fails him. Who so ready as he to tighten a 

 girth, take up or let out a link in a curb chain, or 

 perform some of those odd offices in which a man 

 on foot can be of use to a man on horseback ? He 

 will hold horses or look for hunters when men 

 arrive on their steaming hacks, and his politeness 

 to his clients is proverbial. With the Master he 

 has some minutes' confidential talk, as in duty 

 bound, and the huntsman also comes in for his 

 serious attention, but if he be an old hand the 

 whippers-in are passed by with a cheery nod and 

 pleasant good-morning. 



