64 Captain Dahher. 



don't say so ! — folks rub their eyes — old Lablache's great, 

 ugly head is on a level with his lordship's knee, and what 

 is more, that old sinner, Charlie Dabber, is sitting as still 

 as a mouse on his horse. Not so Lord Daisyfield, who 

 sits down to ride in earnest. Memories of Croxton Park 

 and the Bibury Club, flit rapidly across his brain, and he 

 does all he knows, which is a good deal you may depend. 

 No good. They near the Stand. Old Lablache draws 

 level. His lordship's whip is out, but it is all over but 

 shouting. Steel and whalebone are not a bit of use this 

 time ; the despised one shoots out, and wins, hard held, 

 by a length. 



" G^55 him!" gasped Lord Daisyfield to himself as he 

 returned to scale. 



^' Done, old Stiffneck, by Jupiter f' ejaculated the de- 

 praved Dabber, putting his tongue in his cheek. 



So intensely disgusted was Lord Daisyfield that he 

 vowed he would never ride again, and he kept his word ; 

 indeed, everyone agreed it was too bad of that horrid 

 Captain to serve my lord such a shabby trick. 



And now we will bid old Charlie good-bye. Let us 

 suppose the hounds find in Scrub Wood, and go away at 

 a rattling pace. 



"Ah, I thought as much," grunts the Captain. ''Off 

 to Benderby." So saying, he proceeds to take a 

 lengthened swig at his sherry-flask, lights a cigar, and 

 turning his horse's head, makes the best of his way into 

 the high road. Once there he pounds steadily along in 

 the direction he thinks the fox is making for, and as he is 

 right nine times out of ten it is not unusual for him to 

 very often arrive there before " Sly Reynolds " himself. 

 Then comes the break up, and the Captain, sticking a 



