The Hunting Year 



with our surroundings, and also — not to put too 

 fine a point upon it — with ourselves. 



But the check is only momentary ; a wood of 

 some twenty-five acres is just in front of hounds 

 and not half a mile off. Surely our cub has 

 had plenty by this time, and is making for the 

 main earths in that wood which are certain to 

 be stopped. Hounds race on over the grass 

 again ; the whipper-in rides his hardest to get to 

 the far side of the wood, and as our horses are 

 somewhat blown with the burst so early in the 

 season, we ease up a little when hounds enter 

 the wood. 



But hark! what is that? Scarcely have we 

 eased up when " forrard away " from the far 

 end of the wood rings out loud and clear, and 

 tells us that the end is not yet. The huntsman 

 looks grave as he gallops on and rides at a stiff 

 fence, having made up his mind that hounds 

 must be stopped at any cost. But before they 

 can be reached they swing sharply to the left 

 and cross a wide and unjumpable brook; so 

 stopping them is for the moment out of the 

 question. Luckily they turn parallel to the 



4 6 



