Ladies in the Field: Sketches of Sport Part 4

[2] _Hints to Huntsmen_, by Colonel Anstruther Thomson, published by Fifes.h.i.+re Journal Office, Cupar-Fife.

A more abominable sight does not exist than the _hard-riding_ whipper-in, he is, for the most part, a useless, conceited lad, who will never do any good in this world or the next.

The second whip should be a nice, quiet boy, and a good horseman.

Having got our establishment into working order, we will now take it out for a hunt, which I will try to describe from the point of view indicated in my opening paragraph.

For a right good place to find a fox, give me a smallish wood. As a rule, hounds come away from a wood _settled_ to their fox, which is not the case from a gorse, the first whip having been sent on to view the fox away.

The field being placed by the master (who remains with them)[3] in a favourable position, our huntsman throws his hounds into covert, encouraging them to spread and draw, being careful that they are in front of his horse. When a well-known voice proclaims the hitting of the drag, he cheers the pack to that hound, calling it by name, as "Hark to Melody! Hark to her! Hark!" But they fly to one another of themselves, and shortly there is a grand cry.

[3] You will recollect that our master has been _taught_, and knows that whip's work is not his duty.

One ring round the wood, and the whipper-in's "Tally-ho, gone awa-a-a-y" is heard, he having taken good care to let the fox well away before holloa-ing. The huntsman now makes his way as fast as possible to the holloa, at the same time blowing his horn for the information of the field--

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--as the hounds leave the covert, well settled to the scent.

And now, I think, you can appreciate my preference of a wood to a gorse.

Then, what a scene of excitement. Men and women in such a fuss and hurry. In the whole lot only about three really calm and collected--the master (seeing a useful scent, and hounds with a fair start, is, for once in a way, delighted to say, "Catch them if you can!"), and an oldish man or two still able to take their part, if hounds _really_ run.

Let me, like black care, sit behind one of these latter, and view the chase through his spectacles. He knows every gate and gap in the country for miles round, but this morning he sees he must desert his favourite paths if he wants to see the hounds run. All the dash of twenty years ago returns to him, as he slips his steady old hunter over a somewhat awkward corner, and (before most of the young ones take in the situation) is making the best of his way to the down-wind side of the now flying pack.[4]

[4] If you have a chance, always get the down-wind side of hounds running, because, even if you lose sight of them, you can still hear the cry, while, if you are up-wind, it is extraordinary what difficulty you have in hearing them.

Well, here we are. And, first, let us take a look at the hounds. For a scratch lot, they are well together, and the careful kennel management of the summer shows itself.

Now for the hors.e.m.e.n, see the _hard_ gentleman of tender years GALLOPING from sheer funk at fences, that one of the old school jumps out of the most collected canter. And then, oh, ye G.o.ds, the girls!

brave beyond words, jamming their unfortunate horses into every sort of difficulty, with elbows squared, and the sole of their foot exposed to the astonished gaze of those behind them.

Alas! alas! the art of equitation will soon be a lost one.

Fifteen minutes racing pace takes the nonsense out of all. The fox turns sharply down-wind, and the huntsman--who has been riding carefully and quietly--knows they have overrun it. Not one word does he say, letting his hounds swing their own cast. As they do not recover the line, he is compelled to give them a bit of a.s.sistance.

With such a scent, he can go a little fast; so, at a sharp trot, he makes his cast back, his whip putting the hounds on to him. No noise nor rating, such as is only too frequently heard. An ugly black-and-white brute hits the scent down a hedgerow. He cheers the pack to him, well knowing it was not the lack of beauty that caused the old dog to be where he is.

Now, stand back and see them hunt, with nothing to mar your pleasure in watching the wonderful instinct of a high-bred foxhound, except the chatter of the male and female thrusters, describing to each other the wonderful leaps they have severally surmounted.[5]

[5] If you go out hunting, _hunt_. There is nothing more irritating to the real sportsman than the incessant chatter and laughter of people who take no intelligent interest in the business of hunting.

The fox now runs the road for a quarter of a mile. Whatever you do, keep off them, and give hounds room to turn.[6]

[6] When hounds run down a road, get your horse on the gra.s.s siding. Nothing is so apt to force hounds beyond the scent as the rattle of horses' feet behind them.

The chase continues down-wind. How they swing and try. Look how they drive as they hit the scent, then spread themselves like a fan, only to fly together again as a trusted comrade speaks to the line.

"All this comes of condition," as my old gentleman says.

Hark! a holloa forward.

Do you think a sensible man will lift them?

No; so long as they can carry on, he knows they will go quicker than he can take them.

More patient hunting, through sheep and over bad ground, the huntsman cheering his hounds, but never interfering with them, as they work out all the turns of a sinking fox for themselves.

They'll have him directly, one can see by the determined rush of the older hounds. Sure enough! In another minute they run from scent to view, and pull their fox down in the open.

Five-and-forty minutes, and I ask you if this is not a sporting hunt.

My old friend dismounts, leading his horse away, at the same time remarking,--

"It is a nasty sight to see ladies watching a poor fox pulled to pieces."

Although a note on the subject of blowing a hunting-horn may not be of great interest to many people, still, I venture to think, no harm can be done in placing before your readers how a huntsman ought to communicate on that instrument with his hounds and field.

When he views a fox--

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In-drawing (especially in a big wood)--

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if hounds are wide of him, they stop to _listen_ to the first note, and _go_ to the second. To stop hounds off heel or riot--

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To call hounds in the open to cast--

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"Gone away"--

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To draw hounds out of covert--

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When a fox is killed--

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also,