take a couple of hundred for
him." This was still a little loud; but the Squire at this moment had
the sense of double triumph within, and was to be forgiven. It was
admitted on all sides that he had ridden the run uncommonly well.
"Just like a young man, by Jove," said Jack Graham. "Like what sort
of a young man?" asked George Harris, who had come up at the heel of
the hunt with Ralph.

"And where were you, Master Ralph?" said the Squire to his son.

"I fancy I just began to know they were running by the time you were
killing your fox," said Ralph.

"You should have your eyes better about you, my boy; shouldn't he,
Cox?"

"The young squire ain't often in the wrong box," said the huntsman.

"He wasn't in the right one to-day," said the Squire. This was still
a little loud. There was too much of that buoyancy which might have
come from drink; but which, with the Squire, was the effect of that
success for which he had been longing rather than hoping all his
life.

From Heckfield they trotted back to Barford Wood, the master
resolving that he would draw his country in the manner he had
proposed to himself in the morning. There was some little repining
at this, partly because the distance was long, and partly because
Barford Woods were too large to be popular. "Hunting is over for the
day," said Jack Graham. To this view of the case the Squire, who had
now changed his horse, objected greatly. "We shall find in Barford
big wood as sure as the sun rises," said he. "Yes," said Jack, "and
run into the little wood and back to the big wood, and so on till we
hate every foot of the ground. I never knew anything from Barford
Woods yet for which a donkey wasn't as good as a horse." The Squire
again objected, and told the story of a run from Barford Woods twenty
years ago which had taken them pretty nearly on to Ascot Heath.
"Things have changed since that," said Jack Graham. "Very much for
the better," said the Squire. Ralph was with him then, and still
felt that his father was too loud. Whether he meant that hunting was
better now than in the old days twenty years ago, or that things as
regarded the Newton estate were better, was not explained; but all
who heard him speak imagined that he was alluding to the latter
subject.

Drawing Barford Woods is a very different thing than drawing Barford
Gorses. Anybody may see a fox found at the gorses who will simply
take the trouble to be with the hounds when they go into the cov