116 THE COMPLETE SPORTSMAN 



lie ^vas so tired that he dismounted and went 

 back to bed. 



Uncle " Squirrel " owed his nickname to a 

 peculiar accident that happened to him when 

 he was still a young and inexperienced rider, 

 long before he became IMaster of the Crouchley. 

 He was out with the North Dorset one fine 

 December day, mounted upon that reliable 

 old hunter, Boanerges, which was then his 

 favourite, and afterwards carried him so gal- 

 lantly for over eighteen years. From early 

 youth he had always made a practice of obeying 

 that ancient adage which bids the sportsman 

 ride " fast at timber and slow at water," and 

 had trained Boanerges to do the same. 



On the occasion of which I speak, however, 

 while galloping along the edge of a plough near 

 Stepney Bottom, well at the head of the hunt. 

 Lord Porpentine was suddenly confronted with 

 a stiff post and rails on the far side of which 

 ran the narrow rivulet that connected the local 

 sewage farm ^vith the beds of water-cress for 

 which this part of Dorset is justly famous. 



It seems that my uncle failed to realize the 

 presence of the stream, whereas Boanerges was 

 fully aware of its existence. What, therefore, 

 happened was that his lordship rode at the 

 post and rails much faster than his mount, 

 and when the sagacious animal pulled up 



