The Life of a Great Sportsman 



perfect at fences, but as slow as a top compared with even a 

 moderate steeple-chaser. Having no doubt dined well, and 

 being sick unto death of his guest's boasting, he there and then 

 made a match with him for ^"ioo a side, Huntsman against 

 the other's wonderful chaser — Owners up. It was a mad 

 enough after-dinner wager, truly, for my father must have 

 known full well that, if his opponent's horse kept on its legs, 

 his own had not a ghost of a chance. But there was never 

 any idea of backing out of anything my father ever undertook, 

 and it was some comfort to know that Huntsman would be 

 sure to keep on his legs, and that, at any rate, he would leap 

 as well as the other. 



The event duly came off — a Point to Point race — four miles 

 over the stiffest country that could be found. My father had 

 stipulated for the choice of the course, and he certainly gave 

 his opponent no quarter in that direction, his argument being, 

 no doubt, that even should the chaser fall and pick himself up 

 again, pace was bound to tell and he could very easily catch 

 up old Huntsman. However, he did fall, and evidently either 

 could not pick himself up again quickly enough, or, more 

 probably, his horse got away from him, for Mr. Richardson 

 came in an easy winner of the race and the ^"ioo wager, and 

 forthwith had his good old horse and equally faithful servant, 

 Thomas Rickalls, perpetuated on canvas together, to com- 

 memorate the victory. 



Naturally as we got older we were continually asking 

 questions, and Maunsell being a special favourite with his 

 mother, we generally made him the examining counsel. As it 

 usually began and ended with many tears from our mother 

 and grandmother, the examination was not altogether as de- 

 lightful and amusing an experience as we desired, but at any 

 rate we generally elicited some point of interest and I think 



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