So)7ie Equine Erratics 249 



stone with comfort. He was an Irishman, 

 and I never came across such a sporting bit 

 of stuff in my life. He tvoidd hunt, whether 

 his rider was a good man or no. On one 

 occasion, I remember that we ran into a 

 big wood, with the Crawley and Horsham 

 Foxhounds. 1 could hear George Loader give 

 a holloa every now and then ; sometimes it 

 sounded to the right of me, sometimes to 

 the left. Billy was listening intently, and 

 just at the moment that I had made up my 

 mind to push through the dense underwood 

 right-handed, he had come to the conclusion 

 that the holloa was from the left. I tried 

 my utmost to get the old horse to go my 

 way, but he mildly, though firmly, refused. 

 Billy was an old hand at the game, and I, 

 at the time, a young one. The horse got 

 his own way, of course, crashed through 

 the wood left-handed, and soon proved how 

 correct his ear had been by bringing me into 

 the midst of the fun again. 



The way the old fellow opened the latch 

 of a gate with his nose and lips was very 



