^r. Egerton Warhurton 



the attentions of the Road Board, so you order the phaeton 

 and pair instead of the motor-car. There will not be more 

 than seventy people out, so the meet will be more like a 

 gathering of Fox-hunters and less than usual like a motor 

 exhibition at Olympia. The crunch of the wheels, the 

 tread of the horses, and the rattle of the pole-chains give 

 forth the sweet music of long ago. You are to meet your 

 hounds at the cross-roads two miles short of the advertised 

 place, so that the tumultuous reception they always insist 

 on giving you may not frighten the Fox out of the covert. 

 Presently you see the small party of second-horse men with 

 the horses drawn up in a rank on the grass siding. Jim 

 has wisely withdrawn the hounds round the corner, so 

 that you may mount in peace before they recognise you. 

 * Mr. Tiptop wishes you to ride the brown horse first, 

 please,' says Tom, giving you a command you dare not 

 disobey. The Hounds have now heard your voice, and 

 crowd up to the corner to get a glimpse of you, only just 

 restrained by Jim. The next moment they are all round 

 and about, and greeting you with their joyous voices and 

 fondly happy faces. And a rare moment it is. Some one 

 at any rate is unfeignedly glad to see you, and is not ashamed 

 to say so. ' Nineteen and a half, sir,' says Jim. Just the 

 right number, fifteen couple of doghounds and four and 

 a half couple of bitches. You turn your horse's head down 

 the road, and the Hounds come with you, having suddenly 

 become quite sedate now that they have said Good morning. 

 It is not a good omen for scent when Hounds are frolicsome 



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