IN OR OVER TS MR. LOBB's MOTTO 373 



Ricardo and one or two more in the rioht track. He didn't 

 even touch it, but turned sharp to the left, and although Mr. 

 Willie Sewell implored me not to go to the left and swore 

 I was wrong, I just told him that the cut of Mr. Chaffey- 

 Collin's brown coat was good enough for me, and over the 

 fence we went in hot pursuit. My word ! they were ding- 

 donging ; only fi\e anywhere near them, and Mr. Collin 

 with a clear lead of the lot. 



The fences now came thick as peas in a pudding, and 

 made me long for the morning moimt. my good brown horse ; 

 Mr. Savill too had a handful, for the chestnut was boring 

 and rushing at the wrong place in every fence, and had to 

 be slewed round, and sent along to recover lost ground. 

 Close to Mr. Collin, the Master (Mr. Arkwright), Bailey, 

 Capt. Wilson, and Mr. Newman Gilbey. Down to the 

 Weald Brook we steered, where it ran neither sluggish nor 

 idle, but where its steep, broken banks told you plain, if you 

 meant it, the less you would like the longer you looked. 

 Brothers Sewell and Mr. J. Pelly were over in a line in hard 

 chase of the leaders. Let me confess to a voluntary on the 

 right side with the reins in my hands, and a vivid glimpse 

 of the top of Mr. Lobb's hat, as his pony, done to a turn, 

 sluthered down to the bottom, and was only salvaged on the 

 wrong side at the cost of a nasty cut over the eye. "In or 

 over" is Mr. Lobb's motto, but " in " it was this time. More 

 power to him next time, with a better mount and greater 

 speed, for his heart is in the right place. 



But he had more than one brother in misfortune, for that 

 corner settled the account of a good many who came the 

 circumnavigation game, for cunning as they might be, they 

 never got on those familiar terms so necessary for sticking 

 to a pack who are running to kill in a straight line over a 

 strongly fenced country. Your only chance when thrown out 

 — I have tried so often to do the cunning and always failed — 

 is to ride on in a straight line in the tracks of the leaders. 



A mile farther on, where down in the meadow the same 

 or another brook ran wide as a river, there was a slight check. 

 Just a pause, jus^ one of those opportune breathino- times ivhicJi 

 you never get in a point-topoint steeplechase, but ahvays in 

 the fastest foxhunting rtui ; and once more the huntsman's 

 unrivalled gift asserted itself. With a "Steady, just a moment, 

 gentlemen," hounds picked up the line on the further bank 

 and carried it down by the side of the brook to the road which 

 connects Ilinson's corner with Bobbinoworth Windmill. A 



