THE NEXT DRAW, 43 



"Yes, sir, we have had enough of that fun, and now you 

 shall have something in ours : when, patting his fingers to his 

 ear, he sent forth a scream, which nearly unhorsed the thistle 

 whipper. 



" Gone away ! " screamed Charley again* 



"Where? where?" exclaimed Newman Butler, "I don't 

 see him." 



" But I did, sir, and hope never to see him again until he is 

 brought to hand ; now for the cobbler's wax, sir," as the hounds 

 came tearing out of covert, and settled down to the scent. " Give 

 Foreman his head, sir, and come along ; we've got them all to 

 ourselves." Saying which he cleared the first fence, with a 

 yawning ditch on the other side." 



" All right, sir ; come along ! ' : cried Charley, as looking 

 back he saw Foreman blundering on his nose, with his master 

 clinging round his neck. " Pick him up, sir, and put more 

 powder in next time." 



For five-and- twenty minutes Charley had it all his own 

 way ; and so great was the pace, that the hounds ran into their 

 fox before he could reach the next covert. Sir Francis, with 

 his arm in a sling, rode- furiously throughout this quick burst, 

 and was one of the first up with Will Beauchamp, Sir Lucius, 

 and Tyler. 



" Pretty thing, indeed ! " exclaimed the baronet. " Well 

 done, Charley." 



" Not much for me to do, Sir Francis," replied Charles, 

 touching his cap, "except going as straight and fast as I ever 

 rode in my life." 



" Just treat us to another of the same sort ; and here, 

 Charley " — putting a sovereign into his hand — " I'll double it if 

 you do." 



Will Beauchamp waited until Sir Lionel and his father came 

 up, when the fox was thrown to the hounds, and a discussion 

 took «;lace as to the next draw. " There is a bit of nice lying- 

 in the gorse on Brendon Down, sir," suggested Charley to his 

 master ; "just suit the ladies and Sir Francis." 



" And so it will, Charley." 



" Well, William," inquired Sir Lionel, " where now f " 



" Brendon Gorse holds a fox, I think, sir ; a gallop ovc? the 

 open will suit the ladies better than tearing through these 

 blackthorn fences." 



"Bwivo !" exclaimed Selina Markham ; "who says you are 

 not a ladies' man, Will Beauchamp 1 I am tattered and torn. . 



