CAPE FOXHOUNDS 



^^boys" are preparing the morning 

 coffee. 



An hour later this same camp- 

 ground, or " uitspan/' as it is called, 

 is the scene of our meet. 



The farmers soon join us, mounted 

 on their wiry unkempt little horses, 

 their rusty bits and stirrups being as 

 unlike the turn-out of the English 

 hunting-field as are the riders' cor- 

 duroy trousers, hobnailed boots, and 

 wide flapping hats. But, dirty and 

 ragged though they be, the horses 

 are both clever and quick in bad 

 ground, and wiry and enduring to 

 an extent that would hardly be 

 expected from their narrow chests 

 and quarters ; while the riders, stolid 

 and grumpy as is their demeanour, 

 will rouse up like schoolboys and go 



