A small field assembled at Bramshaw Telegraph, small but select, true lovers of the game, such as you meet on noble Exmoor. Hounds and hunt-servants were awaiting the Master. Presently he dashed up in a motor car, one of the finest horsemen in the kingdom, a lover of hounds and beloved by them. As he walked towards the pack, the veterans, the fourth and fifth season hounds, rushed at him. He greeted them by name: “Ravager, old boy!—Down Hemlock, down!—Sportsman, you sinner, you’re rolin’ in fat!” Then he approached a group of men standing back from the hounds. They touched their hats. These, for the most part, were forest keepers acting as “harbourers.” One, riding a pony,—the head keeper of Ashley Walk—reported three In the New Forest a “stag” means a red deer, bigger, speedier, with more endurance than his fallow kinsmen. The Master, who hunted his own hounds, shook his head. Margot heard him say: “Ah, they must wait for a day or too, I’ve too many young ’uns out.” Lionel told Margot that a red deer might make a fifteen mile point. The Master talked with the under-keepers. One, not a servant of the Crown, had seen very early in the morning, a herd of four bucks in Pound Bottom, including a “great buck” (over seven years old). “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.