126 A MONTH IN THE FORESTS OF FRANCE. 



horn played the air of the roused wild boar. As 

 usual, when boars were said to be nowhere near, 

 there they were — at least, one was ; and I believe he 

 was the wicked solitary of whose potatoe ravages we 

 had received complaints, and who had wounded old 

 Blossom. We ran this boar till all the hounds could 

 do nothing more than make a noise, and there was as 

 much chance of killing as there was of running into 

 the moon, unless the old boar had turned sulky and 

 brought himself to bay ; nevertheless, M. d'Anchald 

 rode to his hounds, till I could see and hear he 

 had not above two or three to ride to, when, as 

 it was growing dark, and our easy day that was 

 to have been had become as hard a one as man 

 could wish to avoid, we, the pedestrians, turned our 

 face home in coQipany with two or three tired 

 hounds, and left M. d'Anchald to follow us. He 

 overtook us without any hounds with him, and the 

 rest of the jaded few were left to follow as they 

 could. 



I was very tired, but not in the least sorry that 

 my dear old horse had left me, and had at least se- 

 cured his easy day ; for, as this was on a Thursday, 

 and I had to ride him again in work expected to be 

 serious on Saturday, he would be all the better for a 

 little rest. 



