A FOXHUNT IN THE SOUTHERN HILLS 215 



in the first scene. The art of camouflage has been 

 studied with remarkable success by the bogs of this 

 district, and after one horse had gone down by the 

 head, even to his ears, and another by the stern, 

 so that nothing was left of him above ground but the 

 makings of a hobby-horse, and this in spots that 

 might have been selected as putting-greens, riders 

 began to feel that to find a fox might impart a live- 

 liness beyond what was desired. Presently there 

 ensued a boundary -drain, deep and intimidating, that 

 looked as if it had been dug out of wedding-cake and 

 filled with treacle. 



" Could we walk through it? " suggested some one. 



" You could not," replied Mikey-Dan, " that'd 

 shwally the Kayser and all his min ! " 



A war-time jest that was felt to be extremely smart 

 and suitable for distinguished visitors. 



The drain was not very wide, but it was wide 

 enough, and what it economised in width it spent in 

 depth. A place to gallop at, faintly trusting the 

 larger hope that your horse will not refuse. But 

 though the bog in which it is possible to gallop may 

 exist in some favoured region, in Dereeny Bog it is 

 not done— not, at least, by The Best People, who were 

 undoubtedly those intelligentzia who unhesitatingly 

 turned and hurried back, half a mile, to a bridge. 



The hounds made no delay, and pitched themselves 

 across, with backs hooped like shrimps, the remaining 

 horses, trembling (like their riders) in every limb, 

 were half-coaxed, half-goaded into following them. 

 One only, a cob ridden by a girl, failed to make a 

 good landing, and the speed and skill with which the 

 attendant cloud of witnesses pulled the girl off his 

 back, and caught his head, and successfully aided his 

 efforts, was memorable. 



It was not long after the drain episode that hounds 



