The Hunting Year 



sound than the jingle of the curb chain on the 

 first morning's cubbing. What memories does 

 it not bring back! And the horse has his 

 memories as well as his rider or the curb chain 

 would not ring so merrily at intervals as it does. 



The stars are beginning to fade as the high 

 road is left, and as day breaks, billows of mist 

 rise up from the damp grass. The road takes 

 us for some distance by the side of a river, 

 where already the fish are rising eagerly at the 

 flies which in their myriads tell of the coming 

 heat, and heedless, in their ignorance, of a 

 couple of herons which are wheeling about in 

 their eccentric flight, looking with keen eyes 

 for breakfast. 



In the distance the sounds of industrial life 

 are heard from a farm-house. The river is 

 crossed and the sharp " yap-yap " of the ubiqui- 

 tous and mischievous sheep-dog tells that he 

 has another errand as well as bringing the cows 

 in to milk, and visions of rabbit-pie pass through 

 the mind of the ruddy-cheeked, flaxen-haired 

 boy in whose temporary charge he is supposed 



to be. But if that boy does not look sharp, 



26 



