THE CALPE HUNT 237 



Luxford of the Welsh Fusiliers, for there was only 

 one track of any kind where even a Spanish horse 

 could go. 



** Take your own line, do," he shouted back. 



He was right, for the fall of one would have brought 

 us both down ; but where else could a horse go ? So 

 I pulled back a couple of lengths. Presently he 

 crossed the bottom to the right, and I, seeing a slight 

 track before me, kept straight on. 



My track, unfortunately, soon disappeared, and the 

 going became truly awful. At last I had to turn 

 uphill on a ridge, and presently was confronted by a 

 huge rock, perhaps some three feet out of the ground. 

 I crammed " Jack-o'-Lantern " at it, but the horse 

 was too blown for the up-leap. His feet slipped on 

 the rock, the hind legs went from under him, and I 

 felt him coming back on me. By great good fortune 

 he fell towards the hill, and still more luckily I landed 

 in a large gorse-bush — soft if prickly. Having rolled 

 me well into it, my unlucky steed proceeded to turn 

 over himself, and finally brought up in the bottom 

 some dozen feet below. Both of us were soon up 

 again, and a hasty look round having convinced me 

 that there was no other place, I made for the rock 

 again. A vigorous dig of the spurs resulted in a 

 successful, if rather slithering, effort. 



A few minutes more brought us to the edge of the 

 tableland just as the Master and second Whip ap- 

 peared at the other edge, riding towards me. Hounds 

 had evidently circled towards me, but where were 

 they ? A bay and some growling solved the question. 

 Their fox had got to ground at the bottom of a deep 

 hollow between us, the said hollow hiding them from 

 our sight. 



