wild career with either great interest or
great misgiving, for as I neared them they
saw that a collision was almost inevitable,
the brute holding the bit between its teeth,
and doing just what it liked with its rider.
A negro had been running after me following
my scenes in the circle, like a dark
Widdicomb, and watching his opportunity
to give me my gun, but each time he
approached me, my brute shied away,
and it was only by a frantic effort on the
bit that I at last succeeded in "fetching"
the man, nearly dragging him off his feet
as I made a clutch at the "shooting iron."

"Hold hard there!" "Can't you take
him away?" saluted me as I joined the
sporting troop, for my motions were eccentric
in the extreme, now drifting sideways
and carrying with me every obstacle, now
waltzing anything but gracefully, scattering
my partners, and generally doing the
haute école; but it was a performance
which made me sincerely regret that I carried
a loaded gun instead of a stout riding
whip. That gun was a source of intense
misery to me and fear to others. Handle
it as carefully as I would, the pranks of my
curveting steed so constantly changed my
position, that its muzzle was either digging
into somebody's ribs, or else the barrels
were levelled point blank between the eyes
of my next neighbour.

After a very uncomfortable ride through
the close pine stems, we came to a spot on
a bridle path where Captain Trenholm
commenced telling us off, one by one, to
our respective stands, aligning the road at
intervals of some two hundred yards, both
horse and the dismounted rider being well
concealed by the undergrowth. Before
putting the hounds in to beat up the deer
in our direction, Captain Elliott propounded
to the unsophisticated the bearing to be
observed whilst awaiting the approach of
the game. Said he to me, as he pointed
out a small sapling to which I was to tether
my beast of beasts: "You mustn't smoke,
you mustn't tread on dry sticks, you
mustn't, in fact, move from there"—pointing
to the sapling—"you mustn't cough,
you mustn't sneeze, you mustn't even
wink; but you must remain close and
silent, and ready with your gun to take
advantage of the deer as it rushes past.
The dogs will warn you by their tongue
when it is coming." For half an hour I
obeyed strictly these injunctions, and nearly
burst a blood-vessel in my effort to restrain
an inclination to cough, which at last overcame
me and burst forth in a prodigious howl.
Finding that no notice was taken of this
breach of rules, I indulged in a sneeze,
and, to cap the whole, I by-and-bye
produced my steel and flint and lighted my
pipe. Presently, as if to rebuke me for my
impatience, I heard the tuneful chorus of the
dogs, accompanied by two or three shots in
rapid succession; but, as the hounds still
continued to give tongue, I knew that the
deer had remained untouched. Nearer
and nearer it approached, running the
gauntlet of an enfilading fire; but, strange
to say, it escaped and passed some sixty
feet in front of my stand, now appearing,
now disappearing among the thick foliage.
But as good fortune would have it, I had
been well warned of the coming and was
ready, so that by covering the animal with
my gun, and waiting a good opportunity, I
was fortunate enough to bring down the
game that had defied the fire of half a dozen
others.

With a cheerful voice I gave the preconcerted
Indian whoop as a signal of
success, and had scarcely cut the throat of
the fat buck, and performed the incidental
offices of venery, than my companions
came trooping round, and there arose the
cry of, "What shall he have who killed
the deer?" In my instance, instead of
having "his leather skin and horns to
wear," I was decorated in South Carolinian
fashion, with the cross of honour, painted
by an unskilful finger, dipped in the warm
blood of the victim, and carried adown the
forehead, nose, and chin, and barred across
the brow. I bore my cross, as is the
custom, all day long, and I believe I caused
some grumbling because I refused to dine
in it. Out of the six deer that were
"jumped" that day but one fell, and that
to my gun.

We only left the hunting grounds when
the light was failing, and there was a
chance of mistaking in the darkness the
numerous bridle paths that intersected
each other through the woods. So away
we went homewards, helter-skelter, following
the guide who picked the way, now
lunging across a flooded road, and shower-
bathing each other, as the long lopping
stride of the horses sprayed the water
around; now snaking along a trail that
cut through the closely-growing pines,
and occasionally finding yourself leaping
mid air, as your horse took some fallen
trunk or gully, which, despite the darkness,
was visible to his quick eyes, though hidden
from yours. It was no use to think of
guiding your steed, all you could do was