268 THE HUNTING FIELD 



hounde. The Captain got Mr. Milksop's horse just 

 in time, for the pace they were going, and the loose 

 way Mr. Milksop rode, would have polished him off 

 in another field or two. 



He was not the first tired horse the Captain had had 

 through his hands, by many, indeed the generality of 

 his stud exhibited the sunken, dejected eye, peculiar 

 to stopped and over-marked horses. By slackening 

 Milksop's horse's girths, turning his head to the wind, 

 rinsing out his mouth, and other little attentions, the 

 Captain was soon enabled to pursue the chase on foot 

 with his horse in his hand. 



Hunting on foot is only poor sport at best, pursued 

 in top boots lamentably poor, and the Captain was 

 not sorry to see his new acquaintance returning on 

 the line of the run. Great was his joy when the 

 proud trophy waved over Milksop's head proclaimed 

 the glorious finish, and greater still, though more 

 suppressed, his delight at hearing that Lambkin had 

 " carried him well." 



What an opportunity was here for a man of 

 Shabbyhounde's enterprising qualities — what a field 

 for the exercise of his " insinivating " talents. A 

 youth, as fresh and verdant as a turnip-field — a 

 splendid horse — a clear stage, and no opposition. 

 Could but the Captain have had a peep at the 

 banker's book, he would indeed have been elated. 

 That was his only fear. He had once been bit by an 

 apparent greenhorn in the matter of a post obit, and 

 he rather dreaded the innocence of youth. " Nothing 

 venture nothing gain," however, thought the Captain, 

 and he "at him" again with the virtues of his horse. 

 If ever animal had cause to be proud of the favours 

 of a master, it surely was Lambkin — Shabbyhounde 

 did butter him up — did lay it on thick. Not but 

 that the horse deserved praise; for he was a "good- 

 un," and nothing but a "good-un," barring the little 

 playful propensity already related. Indeed, Shabby- 



