after the last-missed cock along the river bank. As we were loading up the
game at the wood gate we heard a single shot. Then he appeared in the ride
with the cock. Both he and his excellent old spaniel received warm
congratulations. For my own part I was never tired of by-days in the wood
in my first season. The best sport was starting rabbits from under the
rows of fresh-felled ash and hazel poles, which the woodman called drills.
They are about five feet high and seven feet through. The rabbits get
under them in numbers, and sit there all day. We had an old retriever who
was an expert at finding them. The next process was for the gun to clamber
on to the top and stand knee-deep on the springing faggots, while a
woodman on each side poked the rabbit out with a pole. He might bolt any
way, and was under the next drill in a trice, so the shooting was quick. I
bagged twelve one afternoon in this cheerful manner. Another great
ambition of our lives was to get the better of the hill partridges. There
were plenty of them, but they always dived into the wood, and were lost
for the day. Only once did we score off them. We drove about sixty from
the hills into the wood. There they were seen running along the rides like
guinea fowls, but by placing a gun at the corner of the wood, and beating
towards him, we killed nine brace.




A FEBRUARY FOX HUNT


When the Yeomanry left the hunting field for South Africa, and
"registered" horses were commandeered by Government, fox hunting in
counties where it is not the main business of life might be supposed to
languish. As a matter of fact, it did not; and if the fields were smaller