6o CHASING AND RACING 



** My poor friend/' sighed Bassett indulgently, 

 " don't excite yourself ; there's heaps of time. We'll 

 take up the tufters and go and have a bite and a 

 glass." 



" But are you not going to hunt the stag ? Surely 

 he's one of the right sort ? " 



" Of course, my good fellow, all in good time. 

 In twenty minutes we will get a move on. Come 

 along." 



A strange proceeding, but I had to be content. 



In due course the pack was laid on, and the gay 

 throng crowded after. Daisy could gallop a bit and 

 was handy, so I soon threaded my way to the front 

 rank. The hounds broke over the heather-clad moor. 

 I was now close up with them and highly pleased with 

 myself. I looked round; I was the one lonely horse- 

 man on the open expanse. Huntsmen, master, whips, 

 and the field had disappeared as if the ground had 

 opened and swallowed them up, which a moment later 

 it did in my case. The little chestnut turned turtle 

 and I was sent flying — an interesting performance which 

 she repeated before another half mile had been covered. 

 In both cases she had come to grief over a boulder 

 hidden in the heather. I thought these native tits 

 knew all about such lethal traps; it seemed not. The 

 hounds were now well ahead and sinking a deep and 

 precipitous nullah or chine. They crossed the Barle 

 and streamed away, up the opposite slope. I was 

 pounded fairly and squarely. No more hounds or stag 



