STAGHUNTING ON EXMOOR. i6i 



The stag of the day was a veteran well 

 worthy of the occasion, carrying a heavy and 

 wide-spreading beam, with three long tines atop 

 on either side, and long brows and trays, but the 

 bay antlers were missing. He was first roused 

 in Hole Wood, then up the combe between 

 Wilmersham and Stoke, whence he might with 

 ease have slipped away to the open moor, and 

 have led his pursuers to Badgworthy, or distant 

 Farley, but he trusted to the woods and streams 

 of Horner to escape Anthony's attentions, little 

 wotting of the many hundred pairs of eyes 

 that would fasten on him if he should show for 

 a moment in any unsheltered space within a 

 mile of Cloutsham, or guessing at the scream 

 that would presently go up from a hundred 

 lusty West Country throats, nor thinking of 

 Sidney's tell-tale whistle when, from the point 

 of Horner Hill, he should be viewed stealing 

 down to have a quiet soil just below East 

 Water Foot. But the scent is good ; the rain 

 of the last two nights has done good service. 

 While the whistle is still shrilling away up 

 above, he hears, what he dreads far more, a 

 whimpering, eager note up yonder in the 

 coppice that he only left a few minutes since. 

 Now, indeed, wild alarm courses through his 

 every nerve ; he thought he had left that 

 unpleasant affair in Hole Wood two miles 

 behind. "Surely," he thiqks, "'tis bad enough 



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