LOITERERS 259 



a ' white ' fox. He was grey and striped as a hyena, 

 and he fairly laughed at hounds to-day, as he is said to 

 have done for two or three years past. Made April fools 

 of them, in fact. His appearance suggested, or, to be 

 honest, my description of him suggested to Bobby (who is 

 a bit of a bookworm, you know, and who invariably says 

 something rude when I ask him ' What can a man want 

 with books while his horses are sound and the weather's 

 open ? ') that this mottled Reynard was indeed masquerad- 

 ing as ' proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim.' But 

 was it not curious that though, as they told me, the Graf- 

 ton Hounds have been running hard almost daily of late 

 amid dust and glare and southerly wind, yet to-day, with 

 the glass rising rapidly and the wind in the north, for the 

 first time there was no scent at all ? Give it up. And on 

 a matter of scent never ask another." 



" And the Grafton bitches, of which I had heard so much. 

 What of them ? Well, they are very beautiful. But I 

 wish I had come on some quiet day, and seen them in 

 kennel, with my pocket full of biscuit. To-day, as long as 

 I saw them (which was till about five o'clock) they found 

 it absolutely impossible to follow a fox when once he was 

 out of their sight. They tried hard enough, till they 

 realised there was no hope. Even then they made an 

 effort whenever a huntsman asked them, or a whipper-in 

 screamed in a ride. One old lady, it is true — and one 

 who is said to have helped to kill many a fox — finding it 

 was no go, and that there was no whipcord within tasting 

 distance, quietly joined the luncheon - eaters about two 

 o'clock ; and, after begging a bite here and a morsel 

 there, turned every sandwich-paper over for stray crumbs. 

 As for the field, they were compelled to lounge about in 

 a single wide ride, exactly as if they were taking their 

 morning exercise in the Row ; and they even looked just 

 about as well primed with energy and desire for action 

 as the white-faced community we are accustomed to see 

 there in July (in much worse clothes, by-the-bye, as now 

 affected, than at any covertside, even in Essex). If I 

 have never been with the Grafton before, I have at least 

 been on Exmoor while the field (on horse and wheels, and 



