'Eu leu, in!' repeats he, with a
heartier cheer, as the pack charge the rotten fence with a crash that
echoes through the wood. The whips scuttle off to their respective points,
gentlemen feel their horses' girths, hats are thrust firmly on the head,
and the sherry and brandy flasks begin to be drained.
'Tally ho!' cries a countryman at the top of the wood, hoisting his hat on
a stick. At the magic sound, fear comes over some, joy over others, intense
anxiety over all. What commotion! What indecision! What confusion! 'Which
way?--Which way?' is the cry.
'Twang, twang, twang,' goes old Tom's horn at the top of the wood, whither
he seems to have flown, so quick has he got there.
A dark-coated gentleman on a good family horse solves the important
question--'Which way?'--by diving at once into the wood, crashing along
till he comes to a cross-road that leads to the top, when the scene opening
to 'open fresh fields and pastures new,' discloses divers other sections
struggling up in long drawn files, following other leaders, all puffing,
and wheezing and holding on by the manes, many feeling as if they had had
enough already--'Quick!' is the word, for the tail-hounds are flying the
fence out of the first field over the body of the pack, which are running
almost mute at best pace beyond, looking a good deal smaller than is
agreeable to the eyes of a sportsman.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118