THE HUNTSMAN'S MONTH 225 



slope. Blank the gorse, and blank the countenances of 

 many of the remainder field. Several members, indeed, 

 turned homeward at this period, and thus lost their last 

 chance of a warming. A good fox had already stolen 

 away ; the pack struck his line as they drew up the glen ; 

 and soon hounds were out with their heads tow^ards Lord 

 Spencer's covert, about a mile distant. Progress thither, 

 across some three or four big pastures, was at cantering 

 pace. Arrived at the covert, Goodall took hounds rapidly 

 in hand, and galloped round. A hedge-cutter put him 

 right, in the Elkington Bottom ; and immediately the little 

 ladies were away at railway speed. They kept on the left 

 of the broken watercourse till they had divided its stream 

 into two headlets, both of them awkward jumps as they 

 came in the way. They then swung to the right over the 

 steep grass pitches, and made a half-circle to Winwick 

 Warren. Pace and ground were alike severe, and hounds 

 had their full share of law as they raced to the gorse. 

 Lord Southampton, who had been quickest over the early 

 difficulties, was well nearest to them till the black mare 

 came down a burster. Goodall was of course at hand to 

 cheer his flying pack, and thus stepped into his lordship's 

 shoes ; while Mr. Gordon Cunard and young Mr. Under- 

 wood held a forward place on the right. Methinks I 

 could hear, from my rearguard position, more than one 

 ox-rail crack loudly to a half-blown horse — nay, I could 

 hear even the huntsman's cheery laugh as the amateur 

 carpenter struggled back each time from neck to saddle, 

 while he himself took advantage of the new-made door- 

 way. Some eighteen minutes stretched the girths of every 

 horse ; and it was not much more than twenty in all when 

 the game w^as ended. I thought we w^ere in for the run of 

 the year. A stout fox had gone on at once into the flowing 

 plains of Yelvertoft. But it seemed as if all the sheep and 

 cattle of Winwick had mustered in one field across our 

 path. They smeared out every trace of the line ; and a 

 most promising run ended abruptly, but thus warmly. So 

 much for the Pytchley. 



On Monday, February 20, I bade my factotum 

 rummage out what he elects to call my " old blue sparrer- 



P 



