i82 STAGHUNTING WITH THE 



picnic lunch at a meet of the Staghounds, to 

 throw away an empty bottle or shattered tumbler, 

 even in what appears the least frequented spot, 

 is laving a most dangerous snare for the gallant 

 hounds and horses that are sure to sweep in 

 haste over the spot sooner or later. Glass will 

 remain for years with its cruel edge still keen 

 in the bed of the river or brook down which 

 the great hounds will presently come, pressing 

 close to their sinking quarry, or will lie like a 

 venomous snake amongst the heather and the 

 grass ready to stab at the prancing hoof or cut 

 deep through muscle and tendon and artery, 

 giving the smooth open wound which takes so 

 long to heal. 



On Beggar's Knap, hard by the firs of Lilly- 

 combe Plantation, there lay three stags, sunning 

 themselves as they stretched at ease on the 

 short smooth heath, w^hile four more stood 

 amongst the pines just within the covert 

 boundary, turning their heads uneasily to gaze 

 at the gathering crowd of foot people on Met- 

 combe Hill, at the line of carriages and cloud 

 of dust on the Lynton road, at the spot of 

 scarlet and grey over opposite upon Mill Hill. 



While they gazed and w^ondered, there 

 suddenly approached them up the wind their 

 mortal foes, the tufters, brought cunningly to 

 close quarters by Anthony. Now there is a 

 rush and a commotion amongst the firs, the 



