“Have you made known your plan to any of the others?” I inquired.
“Yes,” replied my companion, “two couple and a half of the right sort stand in with us, and it will go hard but we’ll give a better account of him than he has met with yet.”
We had not to travel far to the meet, and soon after Trimbush ceased speaking we came in sight of it. The Squire had just trotted up on his hack, and was dismounting at the moment of our arrival.
“Well!” said he, addressing Will Sykes, “is the devil’s own to beat us again to-day?”
“He may, sir,” replied the huntsman, giving a cursory glance at us, as if to direct his master’s attention to the draft; “but if he does, I shall think Tom’s suspicions are right.”
“And what are they?” asked the Squire.
“That he bears a charmed life,” replied Will, “and no hounds ever bred could run into him.”
Our master laughed heartily at this, and said, “We must try to break the charm.”
I felt all on fire as the cover appeared, and could scarcely refrain from dashing after Tom when he trotted off to take his station. Trimbush, seeing my impatience, said, “Gently, my lad, gently. There’s nothing like spirit; but wait for orders, and never yield to the impulse of committing a breach of discipline.”
Notwithstanding this reasoning, however, I could see that he had enough to do to keep a check upon his own inclination to break away. But our impatience was not kept long upon the stretch. Will was as anxious to begin as we were, and no sooner had the whips taken their places than he threw us into cover, but without the slightest noise being made. There was not so much even as the crack of a thong.