Echoes of the Hunting Horn 



come a cropper ! Hup ! and the mare's over ! Clean 

 as a whistle ! Game little lady ! The race is ours now. 

 Nothing to stop us, bar we lose our way. 



Hey, steady a minute, young fellow-me-lad, have you 

 forgotten the new rule ? The rule of the Good Samari- 

 tan ? Whoa there, little mare, steady a minute ! Right- 

 about-turn and go back and succour the fallen. 



I nearly forgot to come back to you. Are you hurt ? 

 Are you quite sure ? That's better. Come on, then, 

 and we'll catch your grey. This rest will do my mare 

 all the good in the world. She hadn't a puff of wind 

 left coming to that Regulation. Well, how do you like 

 Fairyhouse ? It looks all so delightfully simple when 

 viewed from the stands on Easter Monday, doesn't it ? 

 But think of the sorry sight both of us would cut if 

 we had to contend with a big field of horses thundering 

 into those fences as if broken necks or limbs were only 

 minor considerations. 



Gently, Grey, that's the boy ! He's not lame at any 

 rate. He's slightly cut, but it's only a nick from an 

 over-reach. He's eased off a bit now. So has the 

 mare. If you mount now we'll go on and finish the 

 course. This bit is downhill, but there's a big drop 

 and ditch at the back of this first hedge. 



Now we're out on the level going. In wet weather 

 this portion can be very holding. The last of these three 

 fences is a whopper. A regular Aintree rasper ! It's 

 a built-up hedge, but is about as yielding as a concrete 

 wall : five feet high, three feet thick, and may the Lord 

 have mercy on your soul. Your Grey is going a bit 

 sticky at it. His argument with the Ballyhack Regula- 



112 



