HORSEMANSHIP 119 



Rickaby, skirting Wardley Binfold and Lower 

 Marton. And it was just after reaching the Vale 

 of Dogmore, and within a hundred yards of 

 Grub's Copse, where they eventually killed, that 

 poor old Boanerges put his foot into a rabbit- 

 hole and turned a complete somersault. Uncle 

 Porpentine managed to fall clear, and rose at 

 once to his feet; but Boanerges lay still on the 

 sward, his protruding tongue and rapidly glazing 

 eyes suggesting in ominous fashion that he 

 would never carry his master again. 



" He's done for !" said the huntsman, who 

 rode up at this moment. 



" Broke 'is bloomin' back !" added the First 

 Whip. 



" Better put an end to his sufferings," sug- 

 gested a bystander, who had been following the 

 hunt on a bicycle, and, having failed to be in 

 at the death, was naturally thirsting for blood. 

 Already several members of the hunt had 

 reverently removed their hats, as they stood in 

 a sympathetic circle round the gallant animal's 

 death-bed, while the huntsman hastened to 

 borrow two pennies from the bicyclist to lay 

 upon the creature's fast-closing eyelids. 



In vain did Lord Porpentine call his steed 

 by name, chafing its stiffening limbs with 

 trembling hands, and attempting to thrust his 

 own flask of brandy down the unconscious 



