RUNNING THE BOAR HARD. 179 



running hounds, and to catch a view of them, as I 

 very soon did, as they crossed a ride just ahead of my 

 horse. This, wherein I first saw them, as well as all 

 the other rides, was leaguered with blouses, to each 

 of whom I put the question as to " what it was the 

 hounds were running," but not a soul of them could 

 answer the question. At last as I came back with 

 the hounds into those portions of the woods again, 

 I met M. d'Anchald, who cried out, in reply to my 

 interrogation, '* It is a boar : I have been close to 

 him : it is the old solitaire himself." Shortly after 

 this, as I was making up to one of those voluntary 

 sort of half bays which a wicked old boar, when pur- 

 sued by so few hounds, will bring himself to, I met 

 old Blossom cutting the matter very short, and coming 

 back to me for aid with all her bristles up. The 

 sooner this bad example was met, the better ; so, well 

 knowing that it would be useless for me to attempt 

 to come up on foot with a boar, with all his runnincr 

 in him, I got my horse as near to him as I could, and 

 with horn and holloa cheered on the little pack, and 

 made the boar take to flight again. And here, all 

 day long, I had fresh evidence of the mischief done 

 by those skirting, babbling, crafty old French hounds. 

 They were never with the pack, always hanging for 

 or in a ride, or dodging about to get a temporary 



N 2 



