312 THE SPORT OF KINGS 



when the trysting- place was reached. One of 

 these April hunts I shall never forget. There 

 had been a heavy rain during the preceding night, 

 and it was a glorious " growing morning " as I 

 rode on to the fixture. Not much time was cut 

 to waste over the breakfast, and hounds moved 

 off by 6.30 a.m. or earlier. A moderate fox was 

 found at once, and, not availing himself of the 

 opportunities he had to escape, was killed in a 

 few minutes. Then they began to draw for 

 another, and before long they hit upon the drag 

 of a fox. How beautiful it was to see them 

 working it out, not daring to own it, but feather- 

 ing on the line, growing keener and keener every 

 moment. Then there came here and there a faint 

 whimper ; then, as the line grew more pronounced, 

 an old hound opened, then another, and for about 

 half a mile through the wood they worked in this 

 manner till a cheery burst of music and a holloa 

 from the whipper-in proclaimed that the fox was 

 unkennelled. There was riding enough then, 

 for it was catch them who can as they bustled 

 over a few fields to a big chain of woodlands, 

 through which they ran. For some five- and - 

 twenty minutes they ran at racing pace, sometimes 

 in big woodlands, sometimes over the open, for 

 we were only on the skirt of the moorland as 

 yet. At last they crossed a belt of plantation, 

 and were on the open moor. I can see the fox 

 yet as he rose the hill, some three couples of 

 hounds close at his brush. " Yonder he goes," I 

 said to a friend, as I pointed him out. " Hush," 

 was the reply ; " don't speak, but ride." It was 

 wrong, I admit ; but ride we did, and what a ride 

 we had ! The good hill fox was just in front of 



