The Hunting Year 



time a second fox is halloaed at the top of the 

 wood, but the huntsman has seen him, and his 

 curt " old 'un " as he touched his horn tells us 

 that we have not been on the line of a cub 

 as yet. 



Hounds have got together now and are 

 bustling a fox about merrily. Surely this 

 bright, alert-looking little fellow that won't be 

 held up is a cub, though undoubtedly a bold 

 one. Hounds are hard at him, too, and he is 

 pointing for a wood only three big fields distant. 

 He is sure to stop there, so hounds are not 

 turned back, and we take hold of our horses' 

 heads and gallop gaily along over the lush grass, 

 full of thoughts of the joys of the coming 

 season. That formidable fence at the bottom 

 of the field recalls our thoughts to the present. 

 It is full of leaf, but we know that at the far 

 side of it is a wide and blind and deep and dirty 

 drain which has held many a good man and 

 true, and which will hold many another. But 

 there is some timber in the corner, and where 

 the timber is there the drain is not. So we make 

 for the timber. The horses that are pasturing 



44 



