260 Wid Life in a Southern County. 
—the afternoon is advancing, and is it possible to be 
lost? The truth is we are lost for the time. 
It is impossible to retrace one’s footsteps, the paths 
and drives are so intricate, and cross and branch so 
frequently. There are no landmarks. Perhaps from 
the rising ground across the valley a view may be 
obtained. On emerging into the open, the whole herd 
of deer and fawns move slowly into the forest and 
disappear. From the hill there is nothing visible but 
trees. Ifa tree be climbed to get a look-out, there is 
still nothing but trees. Following a green drive.as a for- 
lorn hope, there comes again the rattling as of clubs 
and spears, and strange grunting sounds. It is the 
bucks fighting ; and they are not altogether safe to 
approach. But time is going on; unless we can soon 
discover the way, we may have to remain till the tawny 
wood-owls flit round the trees. 
There comes the tinkle-tinkle of a bell: a search 
shows two or three cows, one of which, after the 
fashion of the old time, carries a bell. She comes and 
butts one playfully, and insists on her poll being 
rubbed. Then there is more grunting, but of a dif- 
ferent kind—this time easily recognized: it is a herd 
of swine searching for the beechmast and acorns. 
With them, fortunately, comes the swineherd—a lad, 
who shows a drive which leads to the nearest edge of 
the forest. 
Half an hour after leaving the swineherd, a rabbit 
is found sitting on his haunches, motionless, with the 
