Charlie Wildoats. 



73 



the underwood they went accordingly, and what a sight 

 met their eyes when they arrived at the end of the wood ! 

 Four fields off are the hounds, running like smoke, and not 

 above six or seven people along with them, for half the 

 field have been left behind in the wood, Charlie forgets 

 all about poor Lady Blanche, and sends his horse along 

 as if he was riding for his life ; the hounds making a 

 turn, gives him a slight advantage he quickly makes 

 use of; he is within two fields of them — and what! 

 *' Why, who on earth is that chap in the brown shooting- 

 jacket and wideawake-hat riding quietly and well close to 

 the hounds, and taking fence for fence with the huntsman ? 

 It can't be ; but by Jove, it is ; it's that blessed old artist, 

 I'll be hanged if it isn't — on my chestnut mare ! By 

 Jingo, who'd have thought it ? Look at that ! " exclaimed 

 he, as he saw brown-coat sending Molly Bawn at a great 

 white gate, which the mare jumped like a bird. Charlie's 

 horse was getting pumped, and no wonder; his second 

 horse was nowhere to be seen, and the hounds seemed to 

 get further and further away from him every minute. At 

 last it was all up with him. Down came his horse with a 

 plump in the ditch, the landing side of a nasty fence. 

 His fun was over for the day. Some yokels helped him 

 to get his horse out, and, getting into the road, he wended 

 his way sorrowfully home. In process of time Mr. 

 Scumbler was seen riding slowly up the avenue on Molly 

 Bawn, that clever animal done to a turn. Charlie hurried 

 out to meet him. '* Why, hang it, man," said he with a slight 

 tone of annoyance, '' I thought you had never been on a 

 horse in your life, you told me. Why, when I left 'em 

 you were riding like a bird. Do you always ride like 

 that ? " 



