Hoof Beats 



as she fought for her head. Beyond, the pink 

 coats of the huntsman and the master went 

 bobbing on down the gradual slope of the valley, 

 straight as the crow flies, over fence, stone wall 

 and hedge. 



It was quite apparent to me by now that Cleo- 

 patra had bolted. It was not to be doubted. She 

 had gone three fields and as many fences, and, if 

 anything, had increased her speed. But what 

 worried me most was the extraordinary manner in 

 which everything hurt so. There wasn't a place 

 anywhere from my head to my feet, which I could 

 honestly have made affidavit to, that was less 

 sore than the other. In a way I daresay, it took 

 my mind off other things and worked to my ad- 

 vantage, for I quite forgot Cleopatra and busied 

 myself finding a place in the saddle that did not 

 rub. Then suddenly I saw the huntsman go 

 down hard, over a stiff four-bar post and rail into 

 a roadway, and in a moment the master followed 

 him, and his horse turned turtle in the air. For 

 some reason or other it did not impress me, and as 

 Cleopatra and I galloped at it quite alone, I could 

 not help but feel a kind of admiration for myself. 

 It was superb. The master said so that evening, 

 for he was the only one near enough to see it except 

 the huntsman, and he was chasing his horse. 

 Cleopatra rose at it like some beautiful bird about 

 44 



