Hoof Beats 



amused Striving to study character, he had found 

 the dress and luggage of travelers often a good 

 index, but here all to be seen was the top of a 

 derby hat and no luggage at all, so he turned again 

 to watching the scene without. It was growing 

 more beautiful every moment, — large open rolling 

 country, not too flat, not too hilly, just exactly 

 right he thought, — for hunting. 



He leaned towards the windows and rested his 

 elbows on the sill, his chin in his hands, staring. 

 The chair ahead turned slighty and from under the 

 derby hat a pair of eyes regarded him, but Striv- 

 ing did not notice, — he was riding to hounds. It 

 had come back to him with a rush, years of it, 

 hard riding, straight riding, and a slight flush 

 appeared on his now rather pale cheeks. 



They were passing through a beautiful valley. 

 At one place a stout post-and-rail fence guarded 

 the top of a ploughed field on the side of a hill. 

 At the bottom a broad stream ran swiftly. The 

 approach to the fence was good solid turf. 



"Splendid," Striving murmured,"but the deuce, 

 look at the 'drop' and the plough soft, too." He 

 clenched his hands. 



"Who cares, who cares, we can do it. Keep 

 your hocks well under you and your head up. 

 Now! well over, Gypsy, and 'ware the brook. Go 

 it lightly, through this plough, you'll need all 



