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.
Small wonder that when Tom hears his "view holloa" he knows it is right, and gets forward at once, though there are those who may shout themselves hoarse without attracting the desired attention. "Parson's like my old Solomon," says he; "'e never throws his tongue till he's d——d well certain; but then, by Guy! 'e does let 'em have it."
Whenever it is possible Mr. Halston goes to cover with the hounds, and back again in the same company (unless called away by parish work) after the day is over, and dearly does old Tom love those rides and cheery chats, learning himself, he freely admits, as much as ever he can teach. See them now both in the centre of the pack, jogging homeward in the failing light. Says Tom: "That was a straight-necked 'un we had to-day, sir; but I'm main puzzled what made you guess he'd try them earths at Billowdon."
"Well, Tom," replies the Rector, "I argued it out by common sense. Suppose you'd been hard pressed and knew of a house you could turn into, wouldn't you go for it?"
"Yes, but it was turning right into the mouths of the pack. I was 'nation mad when I found 'em open that I hadna ta'en your hint," continues the Huntsman.
"Live and learn, Tom; live and learn," laughs the Parson. "You forget three seasons ago we lost one just in the same place."
"By Guy! so we did, and I forgot it at the moment. It was the day as young Mayster Bell jumped atop of Melody; but what's become of him, sir?" asks Tom. "How Sir John did pitch it into him that time to be sure."
"Oh, he's getting on first rate; he is inspector at the Deep-seam Pits. I was afraid, though, he was going to the bad at one time. He took a liking to the bottle; but Bliss's accident cured him," replies Mr. Halston. "But here we are at the kennels, and I must get on; I want to ride over to Halstead and see old Widow Greaves; she's a bit ailing; so good-night, Tom."
"Good-night, sir; good-night. See you out, I suppose, on Friday at Fearndale? Sure to find in the wood," says Tom, muttering to himself as he gets off his horse: "There's one of the best men in the world, danged if he ain't."