THE HAUGHTY SHIRE HUXT. 147 



Joggletilt arriving, Jack had perforce to pull out of the v^'ny, 

 and let her, Adela, and practically the whole of the main 

 body of the field, get over, before the road was cleared for him 

 again. Just as he was gathering the thong of his crop into 

 his right hand, preparatory to giving the black ' what for ' 

 if he again refused, Travers Algernon, on his (late Mr. Fobbs's) 

 alleged seven-year-old, came blobbing along. 



Squeaking to Jack to " get out of the way," and with his 

 shoulders hunched up into his ears, he took his horse — or we 

 should say his horse took him — up to the fence, and got over, 

 without }nore than a foot of space showing between the rider 

 and his saddle. Turning round, he grinned inanely over his 

 shoulder, and called out to his friend — 



" Oh, come on ! it's nothing of a jump. You needn't be 

 afraid," and then rode on after the fast retreating field, 

 leaving Mr. Dashwood speechless with rage. 



To be planted with a determined refuser when hounds are 

 running is bad enough, in all conscience, but to have it 

 suggested by a sportsman of Mr. Binkie's calibre that it is 

 you, and not the horse, that is ' afraid,' is certainly calculated 

 to try one's powers of restraint pretty highly. What Jack 

 said for the ensuing ten minutes it is not for us to chronicle. 

 We will merely mention that his language was so strong that 

 you could have leaned up against it, and we think that the 

 Recording Angel must have been really ' sat down on and 

 ridden ' to keep his place. 



" Gr-r-r-r along, you brute ! " cried Jack, as he drove the 

 black resolutely, with hand, heels, and finally a healthy 

 whack from his cane crop behind his saddle, at the very mild 

 place he wanted him to jump. Another determined refusal 



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