170 A MONTH IN THE FORESTS OF FRANCE. 



dying doe ran very short, and at last was pulled 

 down by, I think — Saxon ; at all events, he was one 

 of the first who got hold of her. I then grullocked 

 the doe and rewarded the hounds ; and, putting the 

 venison up on the crupper of M. d'Anchald's mare 

 (the one that had carried the wolf), after a touch at 

 the cherry-brandy flasks and a crust of bread, we 

 went merrily home, delighted with the day's sport, 

 and without a thread about us that was not saturated 

 with the rain. A wet day in this part of France is 

 a wet day indeed; and, from the height of my 

 horse, as well as my own height, being obliged to 

 stoop my head in galloping under the taller copse- 

 wood, a sort of river ran in at the back of my neck, 

 meandering coolly to the inner sole of either boot. 



On reaching home we found that our friends the 

 wolves — still making good my belief that any ani- 

 mals might lie anywhere they pleased in that thick 

 cover without the huntsmen being aware of it — had 

 come forth of the woods where they had so lately 

 made a raid upon the calves, and in broad daylight 

 in the afternoon carried off two geese from beneath 

 the very windows of the chateau ! 



Monday, if I remember rightly, the rain conti- 

 nued, and we had no hounds fit to go. On Tuesday 

 Medor's services were sought by me again, and I 



