Z7^ The Wilderness H tenter. 



ing in an unusually large percentage of accidents. The 

 master partly dislocated one knee, another man broke 

 two ribs, and another — the present writer — broke his arm. 

 However, almost all of us managed to struggle through 

 to the end in time to see the death. 



On this occasion I owed my broken arm to the fact 

 that my horse, a solemn animal originally taken out of a 

 buo-o-y, though a very clever fencer, was too coarse to 

 gallop alongside the blooded beasts against which he was 

 pitted. But he was so easy in his gaits, and so quiet, 

 being ridden with only a snafiBe, that there was no diffi- 

 culty in following to the end of the run. I had divers 

 adventures on this horse. Once I tried a pair of so-called 

 "safety" stirrups, which speedily fell out, and I had to 

 ride through the run without any, at the cost of several 

 tumbles. Much the best hunter I ever owned was a 

 sorrel horse named Sagamore. He was from Geneseo, 

 was fast, a remarkably good jumper, of great endurance, 

 as quick on his feet as a cat, and with a dauntless heart. 

 He never gave me a fall, and generally enabled me to 

 see all the run. 



It would be very unfair to think the sport especially 

 dangerous on account of the occasional accidents that 

 happen. A man who is fond of riding, but who sets a 

 good deal of value, either for the sake of himself, his 

 family, or his business, upon his neck and limbs, can hunt 

 with much safety if he gets a quiet horse, a safe fencer, 

 and does not try to stay in the front rank. Most acci- 

 dents occur to men on green or wild horses, or else to 

 those who keep in front only at the expense of pumping 



