CHAPTEK VIIL 



HILL AND DALE. 



IFTY-FIVE minutes — a good old orthodox 

 ^f \m\Q—and a kill in the open. This was the 

 run — or, rather, the second run — of the Quorn 

 on Monday, December 3rd. A brilliant gallop and an 

 excellent hunt, it presented by no means unbroken 

 sameness throughout — as I will endeavour to explain 

 as we go. 



The woodcutters had been at work in Thrussington 

 Wolds — a forty-acre wood, and perhaps the best natural 

 covert of the Quorn north of the Wreake. Thus a find 

 seemed unlikely from the first ; and by the time Firr had 

 worked his way nearly to the far end of the deep inner 

 ride, thought and speculation were forward with the next 

 probable draw — or turning to the man with the belt, 

 who ought to be at hand and probably wasn't. 



Almost at our very feet among the fallen fir trees 

 there was a sudden unmistakeable challenge; another and 

 another. Here he comes ! Hash ! for heaven's sake, or 

 he'll be chopped ! The lathy brown form is making its 

 way right up to the grou}) of horsemen at the cottage 

 corner. Hounds are all round him as he hesitates and 



