A STRAIGHT-NECKED CUB 267 



breakfast-room, to find my host delving into the depths 

 of a well-proportioned game pie. 



Ample justice having been done to the good things of 

 the breakfast-table, the nags were brought up to the 

 house. The ewe -necked thoroughbred weed, which I had 

 picked up at a local Tattersalls, for a " mere song," a few 

 weeks previously, made but a sorry -looking companion 



to G 's smart 14"2 polo pony. His looks belied 



him, however, and, under a light-weight like myself 

 (9 st. 8 lb.), he proved not only a good stayer, but clever 

 to boot ; and although inclined to be excitable at the first 

 sight of hounds, he is a pleasant enough little mount when 

 they are running. 



But let us jog on to yonder strip of covert under the 

 hill, for the splash of scarlet flitting here and there midst 

 the crimson, russet, gold and emerald-tinted foliage, is 

 the coat of Tom, the huntsman. Hark ! a whimper, 

 and yet another, and another. But that puppy 

 music has not the true ring about it, and I warrant some 

 of the young entry are " running riot." Ah, hear how 

 Tom rates them ! " 'Ware hare, ye varmints ! " Crack, 

 crack, twang, twang, twa-a-a-ang. " 'Ware riot, 'ware 

 riot. Dang your blood. I'll draft ye for currant- jelly 

 dawgs," cries the irate huntsman, as he doses the canine 

 offenders with both whip and tongue. 



The " rioting " is soon over, however, and the 

 " Hieu, push 'em up, me little darhngs ; hieu, wind 'em, 

 me beauties ; yeo-o-o-up," of the huntsman, the shriek 

 of a jay, or the shrill chip -chip -chip of a blackbird, are 



