HORSEMANSHIP 127 



alarmed by the crack of the whip, suddenly 

 swerved round and set off across country at a 

 sharp pace. 



In those days I made a practice of tying my 

 crop to my wrist, so as to avoid dropping it 

 whenever I opened a gate, and having to dis- 

 mount every few minutes to pick it up. The 

 consequence was that, before I could unfasten 

 it, I had pulled the Colonel out of his saddle, 

 and was trotting away with him in the direc- 

 tion of Burnley Fitches. In this ignominious 

 fashion I trailed the unfortunate man in my 

 wake like that cloud of glory of which the poet 

 Wordsworth has written so eloquently, for 

 about twelve miles, past Sleaford, from Rauceby 

 to Leadenham, until we were brought up by a 

 stiff oxer near Welling Gore. 



I am told that the spectacle we afforded was 

 most diverting. Indeed, I recollect that the 

 yokels whom I persuaded to carry away the 

 battered Colonel on a hurdle were so amused 

 by the recollection of the accident that they 

 had to lay down the improvised stretcher 

 several times on their way to the Cottage Hos- 

 pital in order to indulge their desire for hearty 

 laughter. This was my first and last experi- 

 ence of what I believe to be technically known 

 as a " drag-hunt," and I have no wish to 

 repeat it. 



