Summary

A. G. Bagot Men We Meet in the Field; or, The Bullshire Hounds

Scarcely are the words out of his mouth than the sound of Tom's horn comes down on the wind, and the pack are away in full cry, the fox breaking just where Mr. Hall had said he would not. A sharp burst over two fields, a quick turn, and then down-wind like lightning, the pace increasing every yard.
Unfortunately for the Authority, he does not notice the turn, and, riding hard along the lane for a point, he finds himself on reaching the top of a small hill utterly lost, no sign of the hounds and no sound of any sort to guide him.
Source: Gutenberg

A. G. Bagot Men We Meet in the Field; or, The Bullshire Hounds

As a man and a friend he is full of the milk of human kindness, hospitable to a fault, and never so happy himself as when giving pleasure to others. As a sportsman, a bold and forward rider, yet always with excellent judgment, displaying as much knowledge of what a fox is likely to do as if he was being hunted himself; a knowledge of the country second to none, a capital judge of both horse and hound, and with a love of hunting that, as I have said, advancing years serve only to increase.
Source: Gutenberg

A. G. Bagot Men We Meet in the Field; or, The Bullshire Hounds

Hold hard, gentlemen!" roars Sir John to some of the too enthusiastic fire-eaters as they gallop down the squashy ride, vainly endeavouring to get ahead of Tom, who, with white hair flying in the breeze, is vigorously cheering his hounds on to the line, occasionally giving them a chink of music to dance to.
At last the wood is cleared, and the pack are streaming over the grass. Nearly everybody has got a good start, and each man, knowing it is his last day, rides his best.
Source: Gutenberg

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