Notable Runs 73 



" Oh, you darling ! " she cried, enthusiastically. 

 " What a lamb you are, to be sure ! " . . . 



They were now clattering helter-skelter along 

 the tow-path of the canal, with the hounds in full 

 view just ahead, plunging into and swimming the 

 cold water in a long white line. A friendly bridge 

 enabled the riders to cross in safety, whereupon 

 they tore down a couple of raking pastures, at the 

 further end of which an ominous line of pollard 

 willows indicated the close proximity of a brook, 

 whose deep waters flashed like a streak of silver in 

 the pale wintry sunlight. The country was quite 

 new to Valentine, else she might have known that 

 this was the famous Calverly Brook, celebrated in 

 the annals of the hunt and the death-place of many 

 a good hunter, whose back had been broken by its 

 steep and treacherous banks. It was a brook of 

 formidable dimensions, measuring close upon sixteen 

 feet in width, and with a nasty shelving take-ofJ 

 and landing. Its size was proved by the hounds, 

 instead of jumping, being forced to swim to the 

 . opposite side, nothing but a row of mottled heads 

 and waving sterns appearing in sight. . . . 



Flanks were heaving, tails jerking, lungs sobbing, 

 necks stretching, and heads dropping, whilst more 

 than one good horse relapsed into a laborious trot 

 only too significant of utterly exhausted powers. 

 Little Tippety-witchet, who still struggled gamely 

 to the front, looked as if she had completely changed 

 colours. Even Beauty-boy, although still com- 

 paratively fresh, and far too high-mettled to show 

 any symptoms of fatigue as long as hounds con- 

 tinued to carry so good a head, was now lathering 

 freely, and not going with quite his accustomed 

 elasticity. For pace will tell, and the best horse 

 ever foaled, after thirty to thirty-five minutes' run 



