138 FOX-HUNTING IN THE SHIRES 



no time to lose, for the fox is away, and the Belvoir 

 hounds are already striving forward. With incon- 

 ceivable rapidity they flit through the undergrowth, 

 and, by the time the first men are through the gate 

 and out of the covert, the whole pack has tumbled 

 out of the wood spread wide for the scent, hit off 

 the line, and are streaming away with a rippling, 

 chiming cry that tells of a scent. 



Now, catch hold of the horse by the head and send 

 him along, for, even though he has the best blood 

 of the Stud book in his veins, hounds will beat him 

 for pace. Sit back and let him have plenty of rein 

 at the first hairy fence, for there is probably a ditch 

 as well to clear and, as he flings the first two fences 

 behind him, there will be more room. The mass 

 of the field are hindering each other at the gate or 

 making for a gap, heedless of the fact that with a 

 good horse the safest and happiest place is in front. 

 But it is the hounds we have come out to see, and 

 the horse is but the means to an end. See they 

 have overrun the line. The fox, only a cub, feels 

 the pace already and turns short down a hedgerow. 

 The hounds never pause or waver but cast them- 

 selves widely and freely to the left, then to the right, 

 and, with scarcely the loss of a moment, are going 

 as fast as ever. But the pace steadies them, and 

 there is a bit of bad scenting ground where they have 

 to feel for the scent ; yet, even though they are 

 hunting closely, they still drive forward, never wasting 

 a moment. There is no dwelling to rejoice over 

 the scent, and though they are not able to race, we 

 shall have to look to it that we do not lose them. 

 The eager puppies and two impetuous leaders are 

 off the line now and again, but the hounds in the 

 middle never lose the scent and recall the others 



