The Poacher. 339 



hard rider. Jack acknowledged to me that when he got into his 

 gig to leave, he was a "little gone," but nothing to signify j 

 however, somehow or other he managed to upset the gig, about two 

 miles from his own door, and hobbled home on foot with a broken 

 collar-bone and his right arm fractured. Now, all his projects of show- 

 ing this brown colt to the swells at Findon-gorse were quite thrown 

 over, and, as he told me, the pain of the accident was nothing, but 

 the disappointment about the horse had kept him awake the whole 

 night. Towards morning he had dozed off, and in a feverish dream 

 had seen me, as plain as daylight, ride this colt over the gate out of 

 his farmyard. He interpreted this as an omen. The destiny of the 

 brown colt was clearly in my hands, and, as it was impossible for 

 him to leave his sick bed, would I do him the favour of riding the 

 colt at Findon-gorse instead of him ? If I would he'd never for- 

 get it. 



Would I do him the favour ! Why, I would almost have given 

 him io/. for such a mount on such a day under the present circum- 

 stances ; but of course I did not tell him that. I was very willing 

 to ride the horse if he fancied I could do it justice, but I could 

 not help owning that it was a great responsibility. And supposing 

 anything should happen to the horse ? 



Oh ! he'd stand all risk. Never mind the horse's neck, or my 

 own, if it came to that. So long as I rode the horse straight and 

 well, he did not care what happened ; but if I tried to shirk, he'd 

 never forgive me. Above all, I was to ride at young Tom Hardy j 

 and if only I could beat him over the Findon country, the brown 

 was as good as sold. But to beat Tom Hardy was easier said than 

 done. 



I sat by that bedside for half-an-hour, receiving a long instruction 

 from a man who had ridden to hounds ever since he was ten years 

 old, who for the last twenty years had been one of our crack riders, 

 and who had always sold his horses for longer prices than any man 

 in our hunt. In fact, "I got him of Jack Russell !" would apply 

 to nearly all the best horses in our county. 



He kept continually harping on this string, " Whatever you do, 



z 2 



