146 Seventy Years a Master. 



that's nothing " said he, " my horse has been 

 thumping hke that for the last hour." 



I looked at his horse, and said to myself 

 " Poor devil ! You will never see Biggleswade 

 again." And he did not ; he died before 

 half of the homeward journey was accom- 

 plished. 



When we got back to Hockliffe, I shut up 

 the hounds there for the night. Kumours of 

 our great run were then getting about, and 

 the local farmers and gentry came crowding 

 into the hostelry where we had stopped for a 

 pull and a bite. They looked amazed when 

 I told them the country we had covered. I 

 do not suppose they believed it, but went 

 home to their wives and daughters, and told 

 them what an excellent successor to the 

 Baron Munchausen had come over for a ride 

 from Biggleswade. 



We came gently home, and arrived back at 

 Biggleswade just as the church clock was 

 striking the hour of midnight. And next day, 

 although I had not taken the stag, the first 

 thing I did after breakfast was to seek out 



