A September Gallop 



brook, and we make the best of our way to a 

 not very distant bridge, encountering two or 

 three formidable fences on our way; then we 

 cross the bridge, still luckily on the inside of 

 hounds which have turned away from the brook 

 and are running harder than ever. 



Then comes an opportunity to stop them, the 

 first we have had, and the huntsman's horn is 

 already in his hand. " Do you see him, sir ? " 

 says that worthy, his horn held in mid-air. 

 Yes, there he is, not four hundred yards in 

 front of us, with arched back and trailing brush. 

 There is no thought of stopping them now ; the 

 horn is thrust back into its case, and as hounds 

 cross the brook once more, this time luckily 

 very near the bridge, they get a view at their 

 fox. Then comes a sharp turn, and another, 

 hounds turning like harriers with him. Then 

 they get another view at him, and as we 

 scramble over a big leafy hedge, it is to see 

 them in a cluster in the far corner of the field. 

 Forty minutes, mainly over grass, and with 

 only one slight check, and a triumphant finish 

 to a really good gallop. 



47 



