The Worst Hunt on Record 



cherished of reforming him. I could understand the 

 owner liking him at one time, as he was a great-looking 

 animal with quality written all over him. At the present 

 moment, however, the owner's daily prayer was that 

 some foreign army buyer would see his horse and there 

 would be very little difficulty in disposing of him as 

 an outstanding officer's charger. What the unfortunate 

 officer who would possess him eventually might think, 

 is of course a different, and certainly unprintable, matter. 



Had I arrived at the Meet in my pyjamas I couldn't 

 have drawn much more attention. I was a visitor 

 hunting for the first time with this pack of hounds. I 

 was a complete stranger to everyone present, yet I 

 wasn't long at the cross-roads till everyone seemed to 

 know me. I soon discovered that it was not my own 

 angelic countenance that held their interest; no, it was 

 my conveyance : and when that same conveyance saw 

 the hounds he seemed to look back sideways at me as 

 much as to say : "I wonder what kind of a museum- 

 piece is riding me to-day ? " Everyone at the Meet 

 seemed to be thinking somewhat similar thoughts : 

 only they were too polite to put them so crudely. I 

 sensed their sympathy, and that annoyed me slightly. 

 I didn't want their sympathy. They could keep it. If 

 the rascal under my saddle had a habit of dislodging 

 the previous occupiers of that lofty position well, he 

 hadn't done so in my case; at least, not yet, and before 

 he would do so I swore silently that he'd have to try 

 very hard. 



The wood held a fox. Hounds were away in a flash. 

 Horses raced crazily for a flying start, but none of them 



15 



