212 THE HAUGHTYSHIRE HUNT. 



over by the Haughty shire Hounds, no restriction as to 

 riders. In this, Ronald was to ride No. 5, Mr. Oakfield's 

 Chaplet, a great, raking, sixteen-hands mare, with an ugly 

 fiddle-head, redeemed by a pair of the finest galloping and 

 jumping shoulders in the world. There were seven starters 

 in all; they cantered down, jumped the preliminary hurdles, 

 pulled up, walked a little way back to where an important- 

 looking functionary armed with a red flag awaited them ; the 

 flag fell, the bell rang, and they were off. 



They passed the Stand and carriage enclosure in a cluster, 

 hut once over the first fence, Eonald sent his game, good- 

 staying mare to the front, and for the next mile and a half 

 held a strong lead, his mount fencing perfectly at everything. 

 Then she began to come back to her horses, or more correctly 

 speaking, they began to close in on her. She kept doggedly 

 on, however, and it was only in the last half-mile that the 

 spectators could see that, though she was a rare good 'un at 

 the fences, she took a bit too long between them ; and Thady 

 O'Flynn, Cretan, and Burslem all raced past her into the 

 straight, finishing in the order named. There was a great 

 deal of public jubilation, for the winner was bred, owned, and 

 ridden by a very popular young sporting farmer, and much 

 good ale and other liquid refreshment was consumed on the 

 strength of the victory. Eonald just slipped his feet into 

 his over-shoes, a coat over his silken garb, and putting his 

 whip in his pocket, trotted across to the Binkies' luncheon- 

 table, where he found the few invited guests already preparing 

 to ' do themselves well ' over what looked like a very stiff 

 tiffin course. 



Amid the popping of champagne corks and the merry 



