236 A YEAR OF SPORT AND NATURAL HISTORY. 



thing, until they have been broken of their tendency to run 

 riot, and the slack that show an inclination to hunt nothing at the 

 outset. Before the frosts of chill October begin to bring down 

 the sapless leaves, however, they must learn all about it, or the 

 Badminton Kennels will know them no more. In circumstances 

 like these, with ample time for training, and almost unlimited re- 

 sources to draw upon, it is not surprising that the Marquis of 

 Worcester has a pack from which the wiliest and stoutest foxes 

 find it difficult to escape. I know of no hunt in England where 

 the process of teaching cubs to run, and young hounds to hunt 

 them, can be more profitably studied than at Badminton. In 

 the broad green rides of those well-stocked coverts one may 

 enjoy the freshness of August mornings, while one watches the 

 hounds working patiently among the dense undergrowth, and 

 listens to their music as it swells from an uncertain treble into a 

 clamorous chorus. A practised ear can detect every change of 

 the chase. Some shrill notes, but low and tremulous, tell that a 

 puppy has something to say, but has not confidence enough 

 in himself to give tongue boldly. If these faint whimperings are 

 followed by deeper notes, one may be sure the young one was 

 right, and the hounds know it too, for they come together with a 

 crash that shakes the copse. But cubs are many, and in their 

 confused efforts to escape, they dodge about in a way that is more 

 puzzling than all the tricks of which an old fox is master. 

 Sudden silence shows that the hounds are at fault, and when a 

 tongue one has not heard before rings out clearly, it is a sure 

 sign of a fresh scent. 



Then, perhaps, the puppies will speak together with the 

 temerity of impetuous youth, while their elders look at them 



