CHAPTER II


THE HUNT

Before I was two years old a circumstance happened which I have never
forgotten. It was early in the spring; there had been a little frost in
the night, and a light mist still hung over the woods and meadows. I and
the other colts were feeding at the lower part of the field when we
heard what sounded like the cry of dogs. The oldest of the colts raised
his head, pricked his ears, and said, "There are the hounds!" and
cantered off, followed by the rest of us, to the upper part of the
field, where we could look over the hedge and see several fields beyond.
My mother and an old riding horse of our master's were also standing
near, and seemed to know all about it. "They have found a hare," said my
mother, "and if they come this way we shall see the hunt."

And soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of young wheat next to
ours. I never heard such a noise as they made. They did not bark, nor
howl, nor whine, but kept on a "yo! yo, o, o! yo, o, o!" at the top of
their voices. After them came a number of men on horseback, all
galloping as fast as they could. The old horses snorted and looked
eagerly after them, and we young colts wanted to be galloping with them,
but they were soon away into the fields lower down; here it seemed as if
they had come to a stand; the dogs left off barking and ran about every
way with their noses to the ground.

"They have lost the scent," said the old horse; "perhaps the hare will
get off."