50 HOUND AND HORN 



horseman, but when my time comes I'd hke — well, 

 what I do funk, reall}^ would funk, is a long slow 

 ending, a real bad trouble, or worse still being 

 crippled — ugh ! No ; anything but that — I'd like it 

 to be short ; just the sudden topple into the grave 

 of the Arab." 



For many a day did the recollection of that ride 

 home remain in my mind ; and, indeed, I rarely think 

 of our *' first blood " without recalling every word of 

 our talk as we drank in the delight of that splendid 

 autumn morning. 



'^ I wish we could stop and hunt in these grand 

 hills for all time, eh ? " 



At first this seemed a strange announcement coming 

 from Billy, whose appreciation of a hunt was in pro- 

 portion to the number and nature of the fences he 

 met and crossed ; who rarely noticed natural scenery ; 

 who generally devoted less attention to hounds and 

 hound work than to his own horse's performance, 

 and to that of his friends and rivals ; and who 

 hitherto had often spoken slightingly of hunting in 

 the hills. 



We had risen gently to the top of some high 

 ground, and were riding through a nick between two 

 hills — a '* swire " as it is locally called, with the 

 ground falling awa}^ before us — and we looked down 

 upon and across a wide upland valle}^ lit up b}^ an 

 early September sun. 



We saw a sea of round-topped hills rolling on 

 ever3^ side, the prevailing colour green, but that ot 

 an infinite variety of shades, the brown bent grass 

 in the foreground relieved in patches by the gold 

 of the frost-tinted bracken, and in larger stretches 



