Echoes of the Hunting Horn 



forelegs and never as much as lost a stride ; must have 

 iron legs as well as an iron mouth." I felt that there 

 must have been some equally-durable substance in the 

 speaker's make-up; he was having a gruelling ride on 

 an impossible horse, and instead of showing any signs 

 of distress, was gradually convincing the unmannerly 

 animal that at last he had met his master. Conversation 

 flowed from him as easily as if he had been in an arm- 

 chair in his club. "Heaven look down on me at this 

 drop ditch ! " and Heaven looked down very kindly on 

 him and all of us, and watched us, a tiring handful, 

 squelch along a sweep of low-lying meadow towards the 

 crowd of spectators that waited anxiously for an aquatic 

 display at the sullen-looking river. 



Shortness of breath seems an unknown complaint 

 with my friend of the green silk, for he speaks at my 

 stirrup : " Are you married ? . . . . well, you're lucky ! 

 and if you ever do, never let your wife see you ride at 

 a river. She may think you're a regular Adonis in the 

 saddle, but after a taste of bog-water a fellow looks like 

 something the cat brought in. I suppose mine's in this 

 crowd; and she has a camera, too." If that film is 

 ever developed it should show five horses, almost 

 together, clearing a water jump in gallant style. 



Scarcely half a mile to go; horses are blowing, the 

 chestnut has been overhauled and now lies third. From 

 the corner of one's eye one can glance an added grim- 

 ness in the faces of the riders alongside. All are con- 

 centrating on the Big Double. Are horses unduly 

 fatigued by the terrific pace set by the now-tiring 

 chestnut ? Will someone fumble at the big bank and 



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