"There was a pasture country beyond the heather slopes, and for several
miles the two riders were either losing ground as they fumbled with
their crop-handles at the bars of gates, or gaining it again as they
galloped over the fields. Those were the days before this accursed wire
came into the country, and you could generally break a hedge where you
could not fly it, so they did not trouble the gates more than they could
help. Then they were down in a hard lane, where they had to slacken
their pace, and through a farm where a man came shouting excitedly after
them; but they had no time to stop and listen to him, for the hounds
were on some ploughland, only two fields ahead. It was sloping upwards,
that ploughland, and the horses were over their fetlocks in the red,
soft soil.
"When they reached the top they were blowing badly, but a grand valley
sloped before them, leading up to the open country of the South Downs.
Between, there lay a belt of pine-woods, into which the hounds were
streaming, running now in a long, straggling line, and shedding one here
and one there as they ran. You could see the white-and-tan dots here
and there where the limpers were tailing away. But half the pack were
still going well, though the pace and distance had both been
tremendous--two clear hours now without a check.
Pages:
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230