DEVON AND SOMERSET. 215 



the angry hounds with his velvet antlers — all 

 is no use, he takes to the deepest and widest 

 pool and they have him. Another horse meets 

 his fate in the last few moments of the run, 

 breaking his fetlock in the path beside the water, 

 a sad piece of ill fortune. 



Mr. Froude Hancock seizes the stag by the 

 near horn which, strange to say snaps off short 

 at the top in his grasp. 



As Anthony delivers with all speed the ** coup 

 de grace," a herd of sixteen stags stands out- 

 lined in bold relief on the skyline of Oare 

 Common, looking down at the fate of their 

 leader. On the off top are four points and on 

 the broken near top, three, the long brow be- 

 tokening the goodly age of the stag, and his 

 w^ell filled haunch betraying the good pasturage 

 and snug lying of his summer haunts. 



In former times the deer no doubt crossed 

 freely from the grassy ranges of the Brendon 

 Hills to the opposing slopes of the Ouantocks, 

 before the enclosures of the fertile red vale of 

 Crowcombe were rendered doubly impassable 

 by the construction of the West Somerset railway. 

 And their most favourite point of departure from 

 the Brendons would naturally be at their quietest 

 and most solitary point, where Elworthy Combe 

 runs down towards the Hartrow and Willett 

 coverts, and where the journey across the vale 

 to the Crowcombe Woods is by no means a 



