The Hunting Year 



As there are more foxes left in the wood the 



huntsman thinks that another good rattling up 



will do it no harm but good, so to work they go 



again, and run right cheerily for an hour. Then 



a fox breaks with hounds close at his brush; 



stopping them is out of the question, though the 



whipper-in makes a gallant effort. So is riding 



to them, and there is nothing for it but sinking 



the wind, keeping to the roads and bridle paths 



and trusting to the chapter of accidents. A 



mile of this work brings the field to the brow of 



a hill, and there in the valley below are seen 



hounds streaming across the fish-pond in front 



of Oatlands House, on which there is a large 



party skating. The huntsman's anxieties are 



now at an end, for yon distant speck in the snow 



can be nothing else but the fox, and in other 



ten minutes hounds have run into him, and those 



who have been there have something to talk 



about when they get home. 



Still the frost holds ; like the brook, it looks 



like going on for ever. Every now and again 



the " watcher of the weather " has thought he 



discerned signs of a change — always to be dis- 



114 



