202 THE HUNTING-FIELD. 



'' Are you hurt ? " cried I and Roberts, pulling 

 up. 



" No/^ said my friend. 



"Tlien/^ cried I, as Wellington said, "Up boys, 

 and at 'em V^ 



Off went Roberts. 



" Come," said I, " you are longer getting up 

 than getting down ; never mind your stirrup, put 

 it on as you go.'' 



The hounds were now a field a-head, we put on 

 the steam. " Tally-ho ! " said I, passing my 

 friend. The hounds threw up a minute in a 

 small fox-gorse cover ; at something rushed Abe- 

 lard ; the crash was like that of a brass band ; 

 poor Charley just showed for a moment, and 

 whoo-whoop told the straggling field they need 

 not hurry themselves. 



'^ A dog-fox, my lord,'' said the Huntsman to 

 the Master, who had just come up on his second 

 horse. 



" And he," shaking his tail most energetically, 

 " rather a fast thing, gentlemen," said the ]\Iaster, 

 with that urbanity inseparable from high breeding. 

 " At least," added he laughing, " I found it so." 



" Just twenty-eight minutes, my lord," said 

 I. " I'll tell you what, Roberts," said T, " when 

 your mare dies, if you will give me her head, I'll 

 have it properly prepared, and have a glass case 

 made to keep it in. She is true to the blood of 

 the Filhos." 



