330 THE OLD BERKS HUNT 



regard for our horses' legs. We made straight for 

 them over quite a nice line of hunting country. To 

 my surprise, or rather not to my surprise, there were 

 both Charlie and James Rich. 



Just as they were resolved on putting Charlie's 

 first council of perfection into effect, the animal had 

 recovered the leg which was over the edge of the 

 bridge. Not liking the look of the swirling, starchy 

 water, he made a great effort, ably assisted by 

 Charlie, who had hold of the root of his tail, the 

 others meanwhile hauling at other coigns of vantage. 

 Up to this point I think they had enjoyed this more 

 than anything. We had to go back over the spar- 

 bridge, and another horse did just the same thing. 

 This time the body servant of a young lady, with 

 a deep silver lace band hat, and the old drab 

 Zouave gaiter. However, I was the right side, 

 having exerted my prerogative of Master, please, 

 and bidden Jim sternly to the rear. Charlie was 

 with difficulty restrained from staying to see if he 

 could not get this one in, and lustily roared the same 

 advice to Hatband. 



After dragging on a mile or two we had a long 

 check, the floods and our ignorance of ponds and 

 bridges having played the dickens with us. Just 

 as we were settling down into the doldrums of stag- 

 hunting, a baker's cart brought up tidings of great 

 joy. The baker had met the deer at some cross- 

 roads about two miles away. Harvey at once sub- 

 jected him to a severe cross-examination as to his 

 acquaintance with the look of a deer, perhaps 

 remembering the story of the yokel who took a 

 squirrel for a fox — " He wor but a little one, and 

 he run up a tree." The baker stood it well, and 

 offered to go with us as a sort of hostage, declaring 

 he would chance it, which, I suppose, referred to the 

 afternoon delivery. 



