COMING OFF SECOND BEST. 159 



nearly tliat kind of out of time canter, the last 

 resource of a beaten liorse. He tried liim at the 

 next fence, but he stopped fairly, or rather unfairly, 

 " pumped out/' I trotted up to him. 



'^ Why,'' cried my friend, " the grey is worth 

 a dozen of this brute : he is regularly knocked 

 up.'' 



" He is blown, I grant you," said I, " and no 

 wonder. But all the steel is out of grey ; he 

 could not go two fields further. We have done 

 our best ; the best can do no more." 



'^ I suppose," said my friend, looking somewhat 

 rueful, " we have only to go home." 



" I do not think," said I, laughing, '^ we can 

 do anything else, and luckily we have not far to 

 go. Your horse will be all right in a few minutes, 

 but grey is regularly sewed up, and won't want 

 such another taste for some time." 



We got home; my friend's horse had quite 

 recovered, but grey was too far gone for this ; he 

 was, in the literal sense of the word, tired, and 

 glad enough I was to get him home. 



" He looks very queer," said my friend. " He 

 don't mean to make a die of it, does he? Would 

 you bleed him ? " 



" Die ! " said I, " there is no more chance of 

 his dying than of yours : he wants no bleeding; 

 he is merely dead tired, and wants refreshing 

 instead of bleeding. Give him a quart of my ale 



