184 THE SOUTH DEVON HUNT 



from the various fixtures were almost always con- 

 siderable and often very great. Such fixtures as 

 Berry, Galmpton, Welstor Cross, Shinner's Bridge, 

 Widdicombe, Staverton, Churston, Furzeleigh Mill 

 and Spitchwick always meant tiring days and long 

 journeys back to kennel. In many a ride home from 

 such distant, and even more distant, places, often by 

 moonlight, I have noticed that, with very few 

 exceptions, the hounds came home with their sterns 

 up, a great number keeping in front of their hunts- 

 man all the way. We were nearly run down one dark 

 night by a brewer's dray coming at a great pace down 

 the hill we were ascending. Whitmore, who heard 

 the din of the approaching vehicle, saved the pack 

 by whipping out his horn and blowing such a blast 

 as terrified the driver into pulling up. Compliments 

 were exchanged as we passed. 



Born and bred, so to speak, in the kennel, Whit- 

 more had all the qualities and the knowledge of an 

 excellent huntsman. There was little he did not 

 know about hounds and their various ailments, and 

 in the field he was quick, observant and persevering. 

 That was when he was at his best, but at times, 

 despite his master's efforts, he was not to be relied 

 upon. He was a good horseman, but lacked the 

 powerful voice necessary in the deep woodlands of 

 South Devon, and, as a consequence, he used his horn 

 too much. 



The sport, during the first year of Whidborne's 

 mastership, was not brilliant. The country had been 

 going down for two or three years ; there had been 

 no cubhunting ; and, with no apparent prospect of 

 the country being hunted, it is not to be wondered at 

 that foxes were lamentably scarce. As was to be 

 expected, there were many blank days, very harmful 



