CHAPTER XXXVIII 



THE DAY AFTER THE BALL 



Half-past eleven is a late hour at which to begin 

 hunting on a short December day, when there is 

 scarcely light enough left to kill a fox after half- 

 past four, yet frequently do we see that time appear 

 in the list of hunting appointments. " There's 

 plenty of time," your comrade will say to you on 

 these occasions, as you ride to the meet, if you 

 suggest another mile an hour, " it's the day after 

 the ball." And when you arrive at the fixture 

 you find hounds there, with the huntsman looking 

 anxious and not as amiable as usual, whilst his 

 whippers-in are evidently wishing that it were 

 " midnight and all well." 



" Isn't it about time to start ? " the huntsman 

 will inquire of the Master when by every one's 

 clock it is past a quarter to twelve. But the 

 Master says good-humouredly, " We'll give them 

 another ten minutes, Harry," and it is really high 

 noon before a move is made to the neighbouring 

 covert. And by this time what a field has gathered 

 together ! There is always a big field out, for it is 

 a favourite fixture and near a town, but on this 

 occasion the lanes are full and the fields are full, 

 and as the huntsman says when he throws his 

 hounds into covert, " How a fox can get away I'm 



