THE HAUNTED HUNT 



" He was no society man. He cut an awkward little 

 figure on foot, with his bandy legs and wizened, scowling 

 face like a monkey's. He was a bachelor, and lived by 

 himself in the huntsman's cottage at the kennels, acting 

 as his own kennel-huntsman. He never entertained, and 

 rarely went out anywhere. Away from the hounds he 

 was impossible, curt and morose almost to rudeness ; 

 but the Haycester people forgave him all his faults for 

 the sake of the sport he showed. 



" The way Anthony Nunn hunted hounds was Fine 

 Art : to watch and listen to him was the most exquisite 

 pleasure I have ever enjoyed. He had a voice like a 

 bell, and the cleverness of the fox himself. I verily 

 believe that people preferred the bad-scenting days to 

 the good in his time, it was such a dehght to watch him 

 help hounds. The sheer inspiration of some of his casts 

 was enough to take away one's breath. 



" With the hounds he was on the best of terms, and 

 going to cover or returning home used to talk to them 

 as if they were human beings, keeping up a continual 

 prattle, after this style : ' Shall we find a fox in Coney 

 Rough, my lads, think ye ? Old Challenger there thinks 

 not. Didn't find there last time, says Challenger. — And 

 which of you boys is going to cut out old Marksman 

 to-day? You, Primate? Primate thinks he'll have a 

 try. — Well, Sympathy, are you going to let us hear your 

 voice to-day, Sympathy ? You and I will have to part 

 if you don't find your voice, you know. Sympathy ; ' — 

 and so on, addressing not a word to any of the field ; and 

 even in answer to a question only growling a monosyllable 

 over his shoulder. To ride over hounds would have been 

 as much as any one's life was worth. I once saw him 



