A HOLIDAY WITH THE WARD 87 



hounds will vent when taken to a line, and when they 

 know the strife is imminent. Not a bit of it. 'Twas 

 genuine acknowledgment of the game within — as we 

 appreciated afterwards, though now we sauntered, with 

 turned-up collars and with scarce a hope, by the deep 

 ditched covertside, scrutinising with mixed feelings the for- 

 midable partition 'twixt field and field, noticing mournfully 

 the absence of civilised gates, and marked shiveringly the 

 black snow-clouds that loomed overhead. 



Hooroosh — Hooroosh ! A real Irish chorus, taken 

 up, as it seemed, from the whole countryside. The deer 

 had broke, the mob of beaters, and what not, had opened 

 their throats, and hounds were away to a view. 



The big hind at first made a bad strike for freedom ; 

 she met the village of Dunshaughlin, she met a sheep dog, 

 and she came back among us, till five minutes later we 

 had galloped the street, to see her bounding from the 

 road leftward into the country beyond, with a fair start of 

 the pack, and with a wild, good career before her. 



In short, it was a typical commencement. A single 

 exit (wherever men hunt they will follow sheep-fashion, 

 you know) over the stone-faced narrowback, into an up- 

 land pasture, the big beast bounding gaily forward, and 

 hounds just emerging from the road, as we clustered 

 quietly for a start. " All on " surely. And now to keep 

 them in sight, over the hrm green upland, and the un- 

 known difficulties of a strange country. Oninc ignotum 

 pro iiiagiiifico, wouldn't you put it, my classical and revered 

 collaborateur ? 



A corner, a pond, and a wall surrounding ditto. Only 

 way into next field seems the top of the wall. So a cer- 

 tain few clamber for a stride or so gravely along the wall, 

 to drop into the drinking-place and so on. 



Ridge and furrow I thought to be solely a product of 

 Britain. Here it is, though, in its narrowest and chop- 

 piest form, while hounds are driving forward, and the first 

 stray streaks of snow meet your straining eyeballs. 



Ugly bank — and stone-faced, too. Nothing else the 

 other side, I hope. Come up, old Confidence ! You 

 must find courage for both of us. Safely atop. Heavens, 



