212 STAGHUNTING WITH THE 



the falling is soft and he is soon up and on 

 again, and at Lucott Cross the great hounds 

 swing to the left over Acmead and all is well. 

 The yielding moor grass plashes beneath the 

 tread of countless feet, the horned sheep scatter 

 and scurry together in huddled flocks, as the 

 chase sweeps out with fast increasing speed over 

 the grassy expanse, the moor ponies snort and 

 :scamper with flying manes and tails as the 

 cavalcade invades with breathless haste their 

 quiet solitude, and the curlews wheel and 

 whistle in alarm. Far from beating a cowardly 

 retreat down the quiet combe of the Weir 

 Water this gallant stag, though his years weigh 

 heavy on him, and his head has many points, 

 ^oes striding on over Black Barrow and leads 

 the way down Hoscombe to Chalk Water. 

 Then he takes a rather unexpected turn in 

 climbing to Stowey AUotment, for hounds swing 

 left-handed, and reaching Manor Allotment 

 with best foot foremost, go streaming down 

 to the little combe wliich leads to the deep 

 gorge of the Badgworthy Water. This half-mile 

 slope of easv, long descent they covered at a 

 pace which brought out the quality or the 

 reverse of many a panting steed that had already 

 begun to feel the strain of fifty minutes at 

 best pace over the cream of Exmoor. 



On and on, down and down, with the dashing 

 thin white line over a hundred yards ahead, in 



