186 A MONTH IN THE FORESTS OF FRANCE. 



" Oui," I replied ; *' mais ou est le sanglier — wliere 

 is my boar ? " 



" Ici, ici," he said, beckoning me to follow liim 

 down a little path, " ici, monsieur ; I will show you 

 his foot." 



Off he ran best pace ; when at the very spot at 

 which I intended to commence my cast, about twenty 

 yards within the wood, he stopped so short, that I was 

 almost over him. He had gone down on his knees 

 with his finger on a spot, beneath which, to my joy, I 

 beheld the huge slot of the solitary, going in the same 

 direction, but about two hundred yards wide of it, in 

 which I had already run the wolf. Turning Coco's 

 head to give the hounds the right inclination, the 

 instant one spoke I cheered them, hat in hand, upon 

 his line. Giving four single notes upon my horn to 

 tell my friends wherever they were, that I was still 

 upon the boar, I then rode as near the hounds as the 

 paths would permit, to cheer them on together ; and 

 in ten minutes, in the midst of a strong young spring 

 of copsewood seven feet high, they were right upon 

 the boar, who, I could hear, threatened them from 

 him at a walking bay. 



Several times he made the circuit of this tancrled 

 and heavy copsewood, showing an evident inclination 

 to cross about fifty yards of younger spring into some 



