AFTER THE CUBS. 33 



" There he goes ! " the qiiick-eyecl boy on 

 the pony cries, for the lad, his big leggings 

 turned wrong side before, has suddenly cropped 

 up from somewhere unknown, and there he does 

 go, the poor cub, brush dragging behind him. 

 Young hounds must be blooded, for we could 

 well wish that so good a fox might have lived to 

 run another day. The end is nigh, however, and 

 the forty-three young pheasants that have been 

 " lost " are no doubt practically avenged. Eustio 

 sees him first, and loudly proclaims the fact, 

 which is vociferously acknowledged by the rest ; 

 but Warbler, one of the young ones, tears past 

 his older companion, and after a short race is 

 first into his fox. 



" He did that well ! " some one observes, 

 and the master in high delight replies that 

 Warbler ought to be a good one, for he springs 

 from two of the best hounds in the county. 



The final ceremony then proceeds. It is half- 

 past ten o'clock, and we congratulate ourselves 

 on a real good morning's sport after the cubs. 



