Hoof Beats 



like tiddly winks compared to football, but you'll 

 like her; she's a little bundle of nerves and courage. 

 I ride her on a snaffle, though she does take hold 

 somewhat at first — and you'd think she meant to 

 bolt, but it's all just her play, you know." I 

 didn't speak for a minute. It was the appro- 

 priate moment for some dare-devil hon mot, I knew, 

 but somehow I couldn't seem to do it, and I 

 swallowed hard instead. I was to ride Cleopatra. 

 Rawdon had just said so; and Cleopatra made 

 Cricket look like tiddlywinks compared to football, 

 was a bundle of nerves and courage, and usually 

 bolted at first, and Rawdon rode her on a s i iffle 

 bit. I tried to remember where I had put my 

 life-insurance policy and couldn't, but I hoped 

 Priscilla would be able to find it. At any rate 

 the will made her executrix. 



We were driving at a rattling pace, the cart 

 swaying from side to side, the Cricket's iron-shod 

 hoofs banging on the hard macadam road. The 

 lamps on either side of the cart, turned high, cast 

 a bright reflection upon the stiff whitewashed 

 fences at the sides of the road, and the moon, half 

 full overhead, shone feebly over fields beyond, 

 crossed here and there in the distance by a hedge 

 or a fence, as the case might be. 



"Stiff country?" I hazarded, at last as debon- 

 airly as I could. 



32 



