THE 'CAT AND CUSTARD-POT' DAY 



end in an unanimous outburst of downrightly 

 determined melody. 



Jorrocks, cocking his cap on his ear, seats 

 himself plump in his great saddle, and, gathering 

 his reins, gallops after them in the full grin of 

 delight. Away they tear up the rutty grassy ride, 

 as if it was a railway. ' F-o-o-r-rard on I F-o-o-r-rard 

 on ! ' is his cry. 



6 H-o-i-c cry ! h-o-i-c cry ! h-o-i-c ! ' squeaks Ben, 

 wishing himself at home at the mutton, and de- 

 lighted at having got rid of James Pigg, who 

 always would have the first cut. 



It is a long lane that never has a turn, and 

 this one was no exception to the rule, for in due 

 course it came to an abrupt angle. A convenient 

 meuse, however, inviting the fox onward, he 

 abandoned the line and pursued his course over 

 some bare, badly-fenced pastures, across which 

 Mr. Jorrocks cheered and rode with all the con- 

 fidence of a man who sees his way out. The 

 pace mended as they went, and Jorrocks hugged 

 himself with the idea of killing a fox without 



77 



