The Hunting Year 



There will be filled legs in the morning, for 

 the ground is hard and horses are not in trim 

 for such a gallop yet, but we think nothing of 

 that now. We put off such thoughts till the 

 morrow, hoping, maybe, that things won't be so 

 bad after all. The glory of the gallop is all 

 that we can really think of at the moment. 



And the fox ! Was he a cub ? To judge from 

 the hearty words of praise we hear it would 

 seem that he was. But perhaps it would be as 

 well not to inquire too closely. A young fox he 

 certainly was, and there we had better leave it. 



4 8 



