Some of the field remained with the pack. Lionel explained this. A “tuft” might be better fun than the hunt afterwards, and vice versâ. With one horse out, unless he happened to be a clinker, it was sound policy to keep him fresh for the hunt proper.
Meanwhile, they had reached the spot where the herd of bucks had been harboured that morning—the “great” buck, a smaller five-year-old, and two prickets. Lionel pointed out their slots to Margot. The Master, leaving the green ride, waved his tufters into the woodland. Lionel trotted on to a corner which commanded two rides.
“We may see the deer cross,” he said. “There is no prettier sight, except when we rouse them in the open.”
A hound spoke in cover.
“That’s old Sportsman,” said the Squire, who had joined them. “I’ll nip on to the next ride.”
The rest of the field hung about with Lionel. The horses, very fresh, and full of corn, fidgeted and pulled at their bits.
“There they go.”
The herd crossed the ride some fifty yards away, Music arose behind them.
“Now comes the real job,” said Lionel to Margot. “That big buck must be separated from the herd, and driven, if possible, into the open. Then he will gallop away fast and far, making his point. Meanwhile, he’ll try every dodge known to his tribe.”
An excellent and typical tuft followed. The “great” buck, an old deer with finely palmated horns, left the others, but refused to break cover. He prodded up an outlying deer and lay down in its couch, he took to a “gutter” and travelled down it, he found some does and ran with them for a few minutes. Margot saw “the real right thing” and was properly impressed.