18 THE MASTER OF THE HOUNDg. 



a sporting yeoman jumped into the brook and dragged him 

 from his horse. As it was, when placed on the bank, the 

 Captain looked more like dead than alive^ until relieved of 

 nearly a bucket of fluid. 



" Eh ! aw ! demmit, Yernon ! " was his first exclamation. 

 " I feel demned uncomfortable, old fellow." 



"That's not unlikely, my boy, after swallowing mud and 

 water enough to choke an alligator. Confound these brooks, 

 with their rotten banks ! I'll not ride another inch after that 

 fellow. Will Beauchamp ; so get up, Markham, and let us have a 

 glass of hot brandy and water at the nearest public, and then 

 home as hard as we can gallop." 



Many others, some from funking the brook, some from 

 seeing no prospect of again catching the hounds, followed 

 Vernon's example, trotting off home ; and of the whole field, 

 not half a score went on to the finish. 



As Conyers was assisting the baronet on his horse, he ex- 

 claimed — " Hark ! by Jove they have him ! That's Will Beau- 

 champ's whoo-hoop ! for a thousand. Ay, there it is again ; no 

 doubt about it now ; and as I live, the old squire's scream as 

 well ! But how the dickens he got there puzzles me ! Now, 

 Burnett, it's all over j and we will walk our horses quietly 

 down into that lane yonder, to meet them." In about twenty 

 minutes the pack was seen leisurely jogging towards them, ■svith 

 Charley and the fox's head at his saddle. 



"Well done, my darlings !" shouted Bob j "but where did 

 you handle him, Charley ? " 



"Pulled him down, sir," replied the whipper-in, touching 

 his cap ; "just two fields this side the forest." 



" By gad, Charley, that was cleverly done ! " 



" Yes, sir, a bit of luck on our side to-day, but he had it 

 twice before on his." 



" Why, Beauchamp, my old friend," exclaimed Sir Francis, 

 as the worthy squire approached, " how in the world could you 

 manage to be where you are ? " 



" Easily enough, Burnett ; you ride straight ; I ride cun- 

 ning, and craft wins this time ; but what's the matter % with 

 your arm in a sling ? no broken bones, I hope 1 " 



" Shoulder put out, and in again ; now it's all right, thanks 

 to your friend Conyers, who gave up his sport to assist me." 



" No merit in the case," replied Conyers ] " old Plowman 

 was dead beat, and I was glad of an excuse to pull up." 



" Don't believe him fo»* once, Beauchamp," said Sir Francist 



