282 THE HUNTING FIELD 



thrown away. Nevertheless, Mr. Milksop had for- 

 gotten all about it, as in the enjoyment of the " balmy 

 breeze " of a fine hunting morning, he cantered up to 

 the Cow at Dunchurch. What did he see ! Strutt, 

 instead of standing with his usual patronising air, 

 with a couple of jean-jacketed helpers behind him, 

 acknowledging his presence with a finger to his hat, 

 appeared in an old cloth foraging cap, with a blue 

 pocket handkerchief bound over his left eye, while 

 the other exhibited symptoms of going into 

 mourning. 



"What's the matter?" exclaimed Mr. Milksop, 

 pulling up in astonishment. 



^^ Matter r^ replied Strutt, with the dignity of a 

 deeply injured man ; " matter, by God ! " continued 

 he, " I've pretty near lost my precious life with that 

 ere blasted rip of yours." 



"What rip?" asked Mr. Milksop, who knew the 

 term to be one of general application. 



" Why that d d beast Colonel Scabbydog, or 



whatever they call him, has stuck into you." 



" What, my new horse ! " exclaimed Mr. Milksop. 



'' A'"ew Devil I" retorted Mr. Strutt, "he's as 

 vicious as a whole caravan full of tigers." 



" Vicious 1 " repeated Mr. ^lilksop. 



" Vicious, ay, vicious" reiterated Strutt, with an 

 emphasis, "he nearly killed 7?ie — most pulled the 

 stable down — takes ten men to hold him — 'bliged to 

 put his com down through the rack." 



" God bless me, you don't say so ! " observed Mr. 

 Milksop, quite disconcerted. " You are none the 

 worse though, I hope," added he, looking at the little 

 great man's dejected appearance. 



" JVussf' exclaimed he, his impudence rising with 

 his master's consideration. " Ji'uss," repeated he, 

 with a shake of his head and shrug of his shoulders, 

 "never had such a shake in mr life, I know. Wish 

 I may ever get over it." 



