The Hunting Year 



hugs the idea to himself that hunting will be 

 possible on the third morning, though he knows 

 very well that as yet there is no real thaw ; and 

 just when his hopes seem about to be realised 

 the wind whips round to the north and one or 

 two stars wink at him wickedly as he takes his 

 evening walk to see his horses. That was cer- 

 tainly snow which fell on his coat as he came 

 back to the house, but when he looks out four 

 or five hours later there has been no more snow. 

 Some rain is falling, and heavy clouds are 

 driving across the sky, and still those bright 

 stars are winking wickedly. 



There has not been much frost during the 

 night, only two or three degrees, but it has 

 snowed and rained and frozen within the space 

 of an hour at daybreak, and the roads are glassy 

 enough. A bright sun struggles through snow 

 packs, and it is evident that the end of the frost 

 is not yet. 



But about half-past ten a second horseman in 

 pink trots into the yard, to say that it will be 

 quite possible to hunt at Buster's Heath at half- 

 past eleven. Then all is hurry and bustle. 



106 



