222 A MONTH IN THE FOKESTS OF FRANCE. 



have nothing to speak to, and, according to their 

 worth and duty, they refrain from telling lies, and 

 will not open. Frenchmen can't understand this, and 

 consequently they think that their French hounds 

 have much finer noses than the English ones ; and 

 the fact never strikes them that it is impossible that, 

 on going promiscuously to spots in an immense forest, 

 they should always uncouple their hounds directly on 

 the scent of the animal they are looking for. 



In this instance^ the improving line of boars was 

 soon picked out, and the foxhounds led the cry across 

 a ride and into an outside quarter of the woods. On 

 this we all made for that ride, and, hearing a right 

 good cry of eager English tongues, I took a narrow 

 path still further on, that led me nearer to where the 

 work was getting, or seemed to be getting, fast and 

 furious, and I distinctly heard it coming towards me. 

 Having jumped off Coco, and secured him to a tree, 

 something came at a crafty, listening trot from the con- 

 trary side of the path beyond which the hounds were 

 running ; and, turning round to see what it was, I 

 beheld the old French dog Musto. I would have 

 given worlds to have caught him, and coupled him 

 up ; but I had no couples, and he was much too wide 

 awake to let me come within kicking or catching dis- 

 tance ; for we had had a dispute or two to settle at 



