Hunting in the Golden Days. 69 



At the scent of a match, the assembled guests become 

 uproarious, wagers are freely made, and great are 

 the surmises and predictions which are uttered on all 

 sides. 



Mr. Oldwig, now that the wager is clinched, begins 

 to have his misgivings, for has he not a wife and family 

 who will haunt him at every fence he jumps, and, further, 

 he has noticed several ominous twinges of the gout in 

 the left foot during the last few days. It is noticeable 

 that his previous flow of conversation is suddenly, as I 

 may term it, cut off at the main. He becomes thoughtful 

 and silent. His buoyant colour, to a certain extent, 

 has faded, and a deep melancholy seems to have settled 

 itself upon his features. 



"I do not quite see, Winebold," says he, cautiously, 

 *' why you and I should risk our necks across country at 

 racing pace at our time of life. Why not put up two 

 youngsters at 1 2 stone 7 ? It would make a much more 

 sporting event of it." 



But this suggestion is met with a torrent of oppo- 

 sition by the assembled guests who, now that they have 

 at last got an opportunity of seeing these two worthies 

 figuring in the pigskin, are determined, if the matter 

 rests with them, to put every obstacle possible in the way 

 of allowing the match to be cried off. For are they not, 

 independent of the sport, to be the guests of the 

 victorious sportsman at dinner the evening after the event? 



" No, I don't feel inclined to let anyone else ride my 

 mare," is Winebold's reply, "for, to tell you the truth, I 

 think you have got hold of the rough end of the stick, 

 and that you won't have a look in." 



** All right," said Oldwig, " if you are so keen on 

 riding. Don't for one moment think I wish to disap- 

 point you, for nothing gives me greater pleasure than 



6 



