3i6 Cross Country with Horse and Hound 



the huntsman's horn, as a signal to mount. The stable doors 

 are thrown open, and a row of horses that have been sad- 

 dled and bridled and backed into their stalls are liberated 

 with a rattle and led smartly out upon the lawn. All is 

 bustle and confusion. Village boys and grooms, who have 

 been leading riders' horses aimlessly about, now bring them 

 forward. Riders are hurrying hither and thither across 

 the lawn in search of their mounts. 



" What 's become of that blamed boy, I wonder ? " 

 queries one nervous man ; but no one is there to answer him. 

 Presently, however, the boy is spied, dragging his feet along 

 as if they were lead, and tugging at the bridle of a highly 

 bred horse that seems ashamed of being seen in such 

 uncouth company. 



Another rider, in the excitement of the moment, fails to 

 recognise his own horse, which is standing just at his elbow, 

 and he calls like a cow that has lost her first-born among a 

 herd of strange cattle. 



" Micawber ! I say, Micawber ! Where the — " 



" Here, sir," says Micawber, giving the rider a touch 

 on the elbow. 



" Oh, well, where the deuce have you been keeping 

 yourself all day ? " And without even a glance at bridle, 

 throat-latch, or girth, he hurriedly mounts. One might 

 have expected as much. The excited and blustering way 

 in which the gentleman mounts is of itself enough to put 

 the horse on his mettle. The rider is trying vainly to put 

 on his gloves ; the horse is eager to go on with the moving 

 hounds ; and a fight begins then and there between the 

 two. Which of the two is at fault ? It will be interest- 



