Blake's Burden by Harold Bindloss

Challoner kept one or two good horses, though he no longer used them much, and he and his nephew were well mounted when they rode to Croxleigh gorse. As the place was difficult of access, the meet had been arranged late, and it was after mid-day when they drew near a broad stretch of furze on the crest of a grassy hill. Mounted men and a few women were climbing the slope, the scarlet coats shining in a gleam of light, carriages and motors were drawn up in the shelter of a beech wood, and from the summit there fell a faint blast of a horn.

It was a raw day, with a nipping wind and blinks of sunshine that swept across grass and ploughland and faded again. There were glistening pools in the narrow road and drops of moisture hung on the briars and withered fern along the hedgerows. Both Challoner and Blake were dressed in sober tweed, for the Colonel said he only wore the pink when he felt fit to follow the hounds and now he must be content to see them find. Glancing at his watch, he pulled up his horse to a walk.