But hark!  I hear shots fired repeatedly in the lower valley.  I, too, begin to look out with quickened pulse, peering into the misty depths of the forest, and with ear alert for every sound, but all to no purpose.  Nothing comes my way, though again I hear two more shots echo sharply in the narrow valley nearer to me than before.  After the lapse of a few minutes the beaters came up, breaking through the dead branches of undercover.  I knew now that my own chance was gone, but I was curious to know what had happened, and joining two of my friends whose “stand” had been near mine, we hurried down the valley to see what sport had turned up for the other guns.  On inquiry it appeared that at least seventy wild-boars had passed close to one of our party, but the sight of so many at once had made his aim unsteady, and he only succeeded in wounding one of the number.  The animal had dashed into the half-frozen stream at the bottom of the valley, and our friend had to reload and give him his final shot there.

We formed one more battue, but nothing came of it, and it was already high time to return to our quarters, for the whole scene was growing dim in the wintry twilight.  Some of the party, myself included, went by arrangement to the house of one of the foresters.  The good people, in their desire to be hospitable, gave us a warm reception.  They had heated the rooms to such an extent that we were almost baked alive.

The next morning we resumed our sport.  During the first battue eight wild-boars were sighted.  One was shot instantly; the others broke through the line of beaters, but in doing so a very unusual thing happened, for one of the foresters succeeded in killing a boar by a tremendous blow from his axe.  We were very much surprised that the animal had come near enough, for as a rule they will not approach human beings except when wounded, and then they are most formidable assailants.  I regret to say that one of our dogs was ripped up by one of this herd of eight.

This was the beginning and end of our sport for the day.  Our indifferent luck was to be accounted for from the fact of there being, comparatively speaking, not much snow.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Tokay vineyards—­The vine-grower’s difficulties—­Geology of the Hegyalia—­The Pope’s compliment to the wine of Tallya—­Towns of the Hegyalia—­Farming—­System of wages at harvest—­The different sorts of Tokay wine.

The vintage is the season of all others for Tokay; in former days it was a very gay affair, for then every noble family in Hungary, especially the bishops, had vineyards in the Hegyalia, and the magnates came to the vintage with large retinues of servants and horses; and feasting and hospitality were the order of the day.  In the good old times every important event in the family was celebrated by much drinking of Tokay, but in those degenerate days other fashions