THE PYTCHLEY FROM HEM PLOW 33 



enough to mark at least some of the leaders, and even to 

 watch how they spread themselves over the green fields 

 beyond, hounds pointing straight for Crick Covert, as yet 

 two or three miles ahead. Mr. Gordon Cunard had got 

 his whip short by the head, a sure sign that things looked 

 like business ; Mr. Hugh Owen was raking alongside of 

 him with, I imagine, a couple of stone to the good 

 nowadays ; Captain Middleton had come up with a rush, 

 and was ready to force the pace if hounds would let him ; 

 Mr. Murland was again gleaning comparison 'twixt Meath 

 and Northampton ; and Mr. G. Milner was doing deter- 

 mined justice to a comparatively strange country, and 

 possibly to a brother's stud. Half-a-dozen other men and 

 more — e.g. Mr. Pender, till he had the misfortune to break 

 down his smaller chestnut horse ; Mr. T. Jameson, till 

 the four-year-old grey tipped on to his head ; Captain 

 Soames ; Messrs. Hegan, Marston, Adamthwaite, Vaughan- 

 Williams, Cox, and of course the huntsman — were all, to 

 borrow a phrase from another sport, having a good look 

 in. But forward among them all, dependmg upon none 

 of them, but riding each her own line easily, quietly, and 

 successfully, w^ere three ladies — Miss Violet Morgan, Miss 

 Hanbury, and Mrs. Byass. To the people actually with 

 hounds, I fancy the pace was just right — sufficient to keep 

 them galloping well, yet never so great but that they could 

 " hold hounds." To those at all behind it was, as usual, 

 terrific ; and hence, perhaps, so many minor casualties 

 (though the term minor may or may not be a sufttcient 

 qualification to a bleeding nose or a bruised shoulder. 

 This depends much on the subject). As to the fences — 

 nobody could possibly quarrel with them. It has always 

 been our creed that the Crick-and-Yelvertoft district was 

 originally laid out on hunting lines solely, so beautifully 

 do its delightful fences accommodate themselves to a 

 horse's stride and a moderate man's standard. Now we 

 came fairly racing down the left-hand side of Crick Covert 

 almost before we knew where we were. Only half a mile 

 previously our fox was to be seen in the field with hounds ; 

 but the " silly flock " swept in between them and their 

 game, or they might have coursed him down there and 



C 



