68 Hunting in the Golden Days. 



when I rode him last season in the Dumpshire country 

 we came to the River Dump where it was flooded, and 

 I should think from the take-off to his landing it could 

 not have been far short of that. And/' continues he, 

 " such wonderful manners, too, a child might ride him 

 with a packthread. In fact, I believe there is not a 

 single horse in this hunt that he couldn't show a pair 

 of clean heels to." 



Now, if there is one thing upon this earth that 

 Winebold fancies, it is the prowess of his old brown 

 mare, Sulphur, which he has ridden for the last six 

 seasons, without ever being put down by her. 



"I do not know," says he, "but that my old mare. 

 Sulphur, would make your horse extend himself a bit if 

 they came to be matched ; for, as you know, I rode her 

 the second season after I had bought her in that long 

 run from Darlington Copse to Westbury, which is one 

 of our stiffest lines of country. The run lasted forty-five 

 minutes, and the company during that time was very 

 select, especially so at the finish, and I do not think 

 that there was any other horse in the field that pulled 

 up as fresh as she did." 



"Yes, she is a good mare," says Oldwig, "but she 

 cannot gallop like Dragoon." 



" If it comes to that," says Winebold, gulping down a 

 glass of port and rather nettled, " I will tell you what 

 I will do. I will ride you four miles across country, 

 owners up, catch weights, ^25 a side, pay or play, and 

 the match shall come off within a month from date. 

 The winner to stand a dinner to all gentlemen seated 

 round this table at the present time. What do you 

 say ? " 



" Done with you," says Oldwig, in the heat of the 

 moment. 



