Tico Dai/s With the Quorn {First Da//) 157 



English gentleman is the most gentlemanly gentleman in the 

 world (except to strangers). 



We jog on to covert. There is not a breath of air stirring. 

 Therefore, in getting into position for the start, one side of the 

 covert seemed as favourable as the other. Hounds were cast 

 in on the northAvest corner of an oblong piece of wood — about 

 four acres. Some of the riders went along the north side and 

 some turned down the west end. I chose the latter, as foxes 

 usually lie in a covert where the sun can strike them. jNIy idea 

 was that if there was a fox in the covert, he would probably 

 be found on the sunny side and break south. Unfortunately, 

 this well-laid plan worked to my disadvantage. Hounds went 

 straight along the north fence and ran out at the northeast 

 corner of the covert, so that by the time my old wreck arrived 

 on the south side of the covert the liounds were fully a mile 

 away. I had plenty of company, for fully half the hunt — fifty 

 or sixty — came my way. 



To make matters worse, we had to ride slowly through a bog 

 and the hounds went away with such a burning scent that they 

 never gave tongue to the line, at least no one on our side heard 

 a whimper. When the riders on my side took in the situation 

 they raced away at such a fearful pace that my poor old scow 

 was fairly left standing. He was a clever old chap at fences 

 and ditches, but it was no use. I pulled him u]) in the third 

 field and returned to Leicester. I left him' with the stable man 

 with ten sliillings and my card and address instead of the three 

 guineas. I came to the conclusion that three guineas was the 

 price of the horse. The groom said that I was mistaken. How- 

 ever, three guineas was more than I would have cared to pay 

 for him, and we let the matter drop. That evening I was 

 telling the Colonel my experience. "Oh, what a shame!" he 

 cried. "I'll never send another person to his stables. Did you 

 tell him I sent you?" "No," I replied. (That, probably, was 

 my mistake, not properly introduced, you see.) "I don't un- 



