“I hate this meet,” observed Tom Holt, as we arrived at four cross ways close to the market town nearest our kennel. “I hate this meet worse than any we have in the country.”

“It’s not a pleasant one, certainly,” replied the huntsman.

“Pleasant?” repeated Tom. “In the first place there’s a nasty, close, woodland country with banks as high as churches. Then we have a pack of riff-raff counter skippers to over-ride hounds, halloo, head the fox, and play the devil. And as if this was not enough for one blessed day’s misery the Squire himself generally finds fault all day long with everybody and everything, when the fixture’s at these four cross ways.”

“We had better christen them the cross purposes then,” returned Will Sykes.

“I don’t mean to say,” continued Tom, without noticing the huntsman’s remark, “but he may have—heaven knows!—lots of causes to put him out of temper; still it’s rather hard to feel oneself suffering for the faults of others.”

“It is not an unusual circumstance, though,” said Will Sykes. “I have often heard of similar instances unconnected with hounds and hunting.”

Some of the field had arrived before us, and others were trotting briskly up, the hoofs of their horses clattering along the roads in all directions.

“We must look out for ourselves to-day,” said Trimbush, “or there will be cases for the hospital.”

“They are a rough-looking set,” replied I, glancing at some thirty horses, not one of which would fetch ten pounds, and all in a high state of perspiration, with their riders puffing cigars and smelling of all kinds of horrible mixtures. I felt quite ill, and a little more would have turned my stomach.

“If any of these gentlemen,” remarked Trimbush, sneezing, “of high rank and particular smell, get down wind of us to-day, we shall not be able to hunt a yard.”

“What a dreadful thing it is,” returned I, “that men should make themselves so offensive. I don’t suppose they have any noses, have they?”

“Can’t you see they have?” replied my companion.

“But it doesn’t follow that they are any use,” said I.

“Well!” added Trimbush, “as far as that goes I don’t think they are, although I have heard of some men capable of smelling a rat.”

A few of the gentlemen who regularly joined us now came up on their hacks, and instantly afterwards their clothed and hooded hunters, being led up and down by neatly dressed and light-weight grooms, were stripped and mounted by their respective owners. The contrast was strangely striking between these and the “roughs,” and, perhaps, caused my admiration to be greater as I regarded each climbing into the pigskin.

Our master, as was his wont, and which should be that of every one entitled to the dignity of a M. F. H., made his appearance to the minute of the hour fixed, and, lifting his hat, saluted the field generally, while he gave his hand, and exchanged warmer salutations with his friends and associates.

Our first draw was Pickton brake, a large furze cover about a mile and a half from the meet, and there we trotted with the gratifying expectation of a sure find.

“Mind what I say,” remarked Trimbush, “if you don’t keep your eyes and ears backward as well as forward to-day, you will have a dozen horses go over ye and not a bone left in your skin unbroken. Be quick as lightning, and if you flash over the scent, never mind; don’t throw up and check if there’s a chance of being ridden over. I never do. It’s not our fault if they won’t give us room.”

“I’ll take care of myself,” replied I.

Upon nearing the cover the office was given, and into it we dashed, and shortly afterwards the whimperings in various parts proved that there was more than one fox in it. I hit upon a drag and opened loudly, when Trimbush reproved me, after poking his nose where I had mine, saying, “Not so noisy, not so noisy. Let’s have a distinction between opening on a drag, and a good hearty challenge when he’s found.”

An old favourite line hunter, called Rasselas, now threw his tongue.

“That’s it,” said Trimbush, flying to the cry, and taking it up, his roar thundered through the brake.

“Have at him!” hallooed Will Sykes. “Have at him, hoik. Hoik, hoik together!”

It was evident that a brace was on foot, and the Squire, looking more serious than usual, desired that the field might move away from one side of the cover and be quiet, otherwise there was a probability of a chop taking place.

About a minute afterwards, out came a fine, lengthy dog-fox.

“Tally-ho!” shrieked a muffin on a hired knacker, and back the fox dived into the brake again.

“It is most strange, sir,” said the Squire, riding up to the side of the offender, “that you should give yourself the trouble of hallooing, I pay three servants to do that work, and, although I am extremely obliged for your voluntary assistance, I shall feel much more indebted, as will many of the gentlemen present, if, for the rest of the day, you’ll hold your tongue.”

I never saw a muffin so browned in the whole course of my life. If he had been sworn at and called a parcel of hard names—which always recoil upon the utterers of them—he might have been made more angry; but nothing could be more effective than the rate from the cutting, gentlemanlike tone and manner which accompanied it.

In consequence of being scared with this halloo, the fox showed the greatest disinclination to break a second time, and the day being very warm, and the cover strong, we began to feel as if a spider had been spinning cobwebs in our throats.

“It’s choking work this,” said I.

“Yes,” replied Trimbush. “There’s no wind here. Let’s press him as hard as we can; for he feels it as well as us, recollect.”

We now rattled him up to the top of the cover, and, crossing a ride, Will Sykes viewed him, and giving us a ringing view-halloo, convinced us we were on our hunted fox.

“There’s a leash a-foot, sir,” said the huntsman, as the Squire now came to his assistance.

“Then get them as near to him as you can,” replied the Squire, “and prevent them getting on the other lines.”

Ned Adams now viewed the fox in a broad open ride, and hallooed, “Tally-ho!”

“Never mind,” said Trimbush, as I was about leaving the scent to fly to the halloo. “Ned Adams, like yourself,” continued he, “is young and cannot be depended upon. Keep your nose down; we are quite close enough to carry him over the other lines of scent without changing.”

Immediately afterwards I heard the Squire ask in a loud, angry voice, “Why did you halloo?”

“Because I viewed the hunted fox, sir,” replied Ned, touching his cap deferentially.

“Where?”

“At the bottom of the ride, sir.”

“And you standing at the top,” returned the Squire, “when you must hear that the body is well settled to him, halloo them away. What could be your object?”

“I thought the stragglers——”

“Would rather fly to their tongues than to your foolish halloo,” interrupted the Squire, “or you ought to have thought so.”

“You see,” added Trimbush, “I was right. But all young ’uns think they know everything, and the study and experience of the oldsters go for nothing.”

We had now given him such a dusting that he could hang no longer, and Tom, holding up his hat at the farthest end of the brake up wind, quietly announced that he had gone away.

Following Will, crashing through the furze, I heard Tom say to him, “He’s just crossed the road,” pointing with his whip to the exact spot.

We flew in a body to it, and, taking up the scent, away we went.

“Get on,” said Trimbush, “and we may, perhaps, shake off the rabble and have a run. It’s our only chance.”

We carried a fine head across the first field of some thirty acres of grass, and crossing two wide ditches—which would be called brooks in some counties—we began to hope that these would prove of essential service in stopping the mob. A blind bullfinch, too, increased our sanguine hopes on this head, and we began to flatter ourselves that a good day’s sport was in store, when we had to throw up and check.

“That ploughman’s headed him,” said Trimbush, making a cast to the right, “and he’s down wind as sure as I’m a foxhound.”

He was right, and hitting it off, with an improving scent, we down with our sterns and raced along at our best pace. A large flock of sheep was before us, and, notwithstanding they ran some distance, we managed to carry it through the stained ground, with a little careful picking, without much loss of time. I saw Will Sykes in doubt as to whether he should not cast us forward; but thinking, perhaps, of the sensible rule of “letting us alone,” and as we did not throw up, he, luckily for himself, kept his horn quiet. Had he twanged it he would have had the Squire about his ears.

As the ground was good and we had a turn of wind in our favour, we set to work and soon recovered the little time lost through the sheep. There was now every probability of having a glorious day’s sport. The field had been thinned materially at the burst, and those with us were not near enough to do any harm.

“It will be short and fast to-day,” said Trimbush, exultingly.

The scent was now a burning one, and we all bristled for blood. Across three deep fallows we carried it in great force into and across a green lane, flanked by two tall quicks, when suddenly the leading hounds threw up.

“What’s the matter?” inquired several, throwing up their heads.

“Find out,” briefly replied Trimbush, doing his best to accomplish the deed himself.

In a few seconds the lane became full of horses; for it is wonderful how courageous men are in spinning along the roads. Some came screaming up and cracking their whips, and instead of sticking to our work we began flying about in every direction.

The Squire scolded, Will roared, Tom lost his patience, and Ned Adams thundered out “Hold har-r-r-d!” until black in the face.

At this juncture, a fellow with his hat hanging by the string, his long lank hair streaming in the wind, coat tails sticking well out, and his horse’s head close to his chest, came tearing up the lane. Bang he went against me, rolling me over and over like a football. I thought my back was broken, and sung out with pain and fright most lustily.

“William,” said the Squire, sternly. “Take the hounds home.”

Will touched his cap, and the order was obeyed.