THE LIFE OF A HUNTER 59 



unkempt mane and tail stand on end at the 

 bare recollection. What a life it was, to be 

 sure ! One day boxed to Huntingdon and 

 ridden twelve miles to a meet ; pounded 

 about all day, no matter whether hounds 

 were running or not ; larked all the way 

 home ; hurried to the train, and not back in 

 one's box till ten or eleven at night. Pulled 

 out the next afternoon, and raced for twenty 

 minutes with the Drag, and, after a punish- 

 ing finish, accompanying the hounds back to 

 the kennels ; and then, for a last flutter, 

 taken over all the gates and stiles along the 

 footpath leading to the town. If my stable 

 companions were lame, I was perhaps 

 the next day hacked over to Newmarket, 

 and kept on the course till the last race was 

 over, and then taken home as fast as my legs 



