96 A MONTH IN THE FORESTS OF FRANCE. 



It was about the height and length of a fox ; but when 

 it saw me it blundered in its desperate hurry against 

 the stems of some young blackthorns audibly and 

 roughly ; and I never knew a fox do that. It might 

 have been a young wild boar from a litter ; and 

 yet old Blossom, wounded in the flank as she had 

 been, was running it merrily. No, it must have been 

 a fox, who accidentally and unusually, did not see 

 where he was going." 



As we came out on one of the long straight rides 

 we had to cross, and near the spot where we had 

 begun, there sat our huntsman or hornblower on a 

 heap of stones, smoking his short black pipe as usual 

 — as a groom would say, not having turned a hair on 

 his coat. 



" Oh," I said to myself, " if you were my man, 

 wouldn't I just about drop into you ! " 



This worthy, however, arose cool and comfortable 

 from his seat, and condescended to keep up to us 

 while we walked home. 



The insight which this day afforded me into these 

 woods made me fully aware that there was not suf- 

 ficient knowledge possessed by my friends of the 

 haunts of the animals of chase. We were supposed 

 to be about to find nothing but roe-deer, whereas we 

 came upon an old solitary boar, as well as on a band 



