The Hunt Dinner 347 



"*He was owned by a gentleman who was going 

 abroad. Sold for no fault of his own.' This I knew to be 

 quite true, as the liveryman had taken the horse in a 

 trade from a gypsy. * Gentleman going abroad' — that point 

 at least was not to be disputed. 



" * Sold for no fault of his own.* 



"' Whose own?' I asked. * The horse's or the former 

 owner's ? ' But this seemed to make my good friend huffy, 

 and I desisted. 



"Well, I had to laugh to see Bankclerk admiring himself 

 in the shop-windows as you rode through town to covert. 



" * Why don't you carry a looking-glass in front of you?' 

 shouted a boot-black at him as he passed. * It would save 

 the trouble of turning your head.' 



" Before we reached the covert, Bankclerk was quilting 

 away at his nag to make him keep up. 



*' * Not much on the trot,' I suggested, * is he ? Give 

 him the spurs.' This Bankclerk did, but Rory simply 

 switched his tail and plodded on. 



" * Come up, my beauty,' said Bankclerk, trying to get 

 his old stager into a canter ; for I could see my friend's 

 back teeth were being loosened from the jolting of the old 

 fellow's trot. 



" * Come up, my beauty ! Come along, my pet ! ' he cried, 

 pushing on the lines and then pulling back as a signal for 

 Rory to go ahead. And then, losing patience, he drove both 

 spurs home with * Get out of this, you lumbering idiot i ' 

 Thus addressed, Rory O'More broke into a bone-setting 

 canter. The ring of his feet on the stone pavement could 

 be heard for a mile. 



