The Poacher, 337 



The man had just brought in the grey from exercise, and, ahnost 

 before I spoke to him, I was m^et with the unwelcome tidings that 

 " he could not think whatever was the matter with the old grey ; 

 he was quite off his feed, had been coughing all the morning, and did 

 not seem to have half got over last Saturday." The horse certainly 

 looked dull. Before night the vet. had visited him, and next morn- 

 ing influenza had set in, which, as his medical adviser predicted, 

 would probably keep him in the stable for a month at the very 

 least. What was to be done now ? To miss a Findon Toll-bar 

 meet was out of the question j and, although he had done his work 

 well on the Wednesday, there was nothing for it but the brown. 

 He was a rare constitutioned horse. It was, however, hardly fair 

 play to bring him again out so soon ; but I could not help it unless I 

 missed this meet altogether. As the Scotch say truly, " 'Tis indeed 

 a bad cause which we cannot excuse to ourselves j" and although I 

 could see that he wanted rest, and felt it was a shame to press upon 

 good nature, still I reasoned witli myself thus. " That we could not 

 be long without a frost, which was generally due about this time,, 

 when both horses would have plenty of rest. After all, I need 

 not do anything more than just see the findj and if I sent the 

 horse on the night before, I might even have a mile or two with 

 them without distressing him, and pull up when I liked." Pretty 

 reasoning this ! Why, I would as soon have chopped my right hand 

 off as have pulled up in a Findon-gorse run while the horse had a 

 leg to stand upon. And as for just seeing the meet, I would rather 

 have stayed at home altogether than see a fox break from this covert 

 and sit still to watch the hounds running over the finest country 

 perhaps in the world. Still, I was not doing exactly right, and felt 

 rather ill at ease the whole morning ; but it often happens that in 

 this life the lucky card turns up at the last moment, when we least 

 expect it. 



Findon was nearly twelve miles from us, and I was in the stable 

 making all the final arrangements with the groom to take the horse 

 on in the afternoon, when a ragged urchin came up with a message 

 that "Muster Russell " wanted to see me up at the lodge directly. 



z 



