DEVON AND SOMERSET. 367 



charm of all hunting lies in the traversing of 

 fresh and unexplored ground, where a way has 

 to be found or made, and that without loss 

 of time. 



Along the top of Slowley Wood, there runs 

 a green grass track, and by a certain thorn 

 bush successive masters have taken their stand, 

 to await the appearance of harboured stags, 

 roused in the jungle below bv the tufters. 

 Here sooner or later if deer are plentiful in 

 the wood, and they have been so for many 

 vears, there is sure to be a view at close 

 quarters, but amongst so many acres of covert 

 it may well happen that the tufters first 

 rouse any animal but a warrantable one. A 

 lusty male deer perhaps does the stag service 

 by leading the pursuit astray, and not until 

 he bounds out from the topmost fringe of the 

 covert, can it be seen that he is not the real 

 article. Then the tufters must be taken back 

 and the quest resumed, and the huntsman's 

 voice sounds fainter and more distant as he 

 tries downwards amongst the endless thickets, 

 where for acres and acres the ling grows up 

 in luxuriant masses amongst the sheltering 

 copse. Then, again, in the depths of greenery 

 a hound challenges, and there follows a tell- 

 tale rush and rattle that makes the bushes sway 

 and nod their topmost twigs. But instead of 

 bearing upwards to the open hill side where 



