Hoof Beats 



The Yorkshire Lad was nervously alert, though 

 he had hunted a number of times before. His 

 tail shook like a reed in the wind, his sharp cut 

 nostrils dilated swiftly, and he pawed the hard 

 ground with one forefoot. The colts stood side 

 by side, and it was plain to Fullerton that people 

 discussed them. The Yorkshire Lad was half a 

 hand taller and his coat shone like a new silver 

 dollar, but Fullerton knew that that wouldn't 

 count if the Marquis could outjump and outgallop 

 the other. 



Fullerton shut his knees on the saddle in a way 

 that made the Marquis catch his breath, which 

 coming fast, turned, in the sharp frosty air, to a 

 vaporous cloud, while his small furry ears pointed 

 this way and that and his heart beat with longing 

 against the leg of Fullerton's boot. Then one 

 hound began to give tongue, and before Fullerton 

 could change his position, a big red fox, went 

 directly under the Marquis's legs, and the whole 

 pack burst forth like the shriek of a sudden 

 squall, and came swiftly towards them. 



In a moment Fullerton had wheeled him, leaned 

 low over his withers and sent home both spurs. 

 The Marquis, whose great strength lay in his 

 quarters, literally stood in the air, — Torchlight 

 colts will rear you know, — and with one long 

 stride, passed the Yorkshire Lad, who was boring 

 126 



