“I allows he’s that buck, zir, you had that tarr’ble run wi’ las’ year, when he fair diddled ’ee in Oakley.”
The master laughed. “We’ll diddle him to-day.”
He returned to the pack, and instructed three men to couple-up and hold them, selecting three couple of “tufters,” hounds that will hunt a herd of deer, throw their tongues, and if they get a buck warmed up “stick” to him. Tufters must draw well, and be fine tryers on a cold scent.
Whilst the hounds were being coupled-up the keeper walked on to where he had harboured the deer. The Master mounted his first horse, a sage beast, handy in thick timber, a gentleman with manners and experience. Then he jogged on with the tufters. The pack bayed, loath to be left behind. The whips followed the tufters. Lionel impressed upon Margot the necessity of trotting about quietly, and not “riding in the Master’s pocket.” He must be left alone, so that he can hear as well as see. Those of the field who go tufting can best help by watching the rides to see if any deer slip across.
The Squire, on such occasions, generally joined the Master till they reached the cover. He knew every yard of the New Forest, having hunted in it since he was a boy of six. Before riding on, he said an emphatic word to Margot:
“This is not Leicestershire, my dear. You stick to Lionel. He’ll pilot you. Go slow at doubtful places. You mustn’t let that horse out in woodlands. If you try to take your own line, you’ll be bogged to a certainty.”
He touched his mare with the spur and joined the master.
“Sir Geoffrey looks his best outside a horse,” said Margot, “and so do you.”
“Do you like to see hounds work?” asked Lionel.
Margot preferred a “quick thing,” a rousing gallop. Lionel hoped that this would be forthcoming. Meanwhile, he dwelt affectionately upon the superlative merits of certain tufters who knew their job. Really, to enjoy hunting in the Forest, it was necessary to watch individual hounds, whether good or bad. The duffers of the pack running a fresh deer told the tale of a false scent as unerringly as the body of the pack lagging behind, with heads up, mutely protesting. His enthusiasm infected Margot as he talked on about the arts and crafts of deer. She didn’t know that buckhounds were big foxhounds, with inherited instincts to hunt foxes instead of deer, instincts which had to be whipped and rated out of them.