GOOD HORSES AND FRAUDS 167 



but there is so little prospect of hunting as I write 

 with all Europe in a blaze that I do not want to 

 keep many of them. 



They said they might even take my pets. The 

 man who chased enemies on Sandy might find 

 himself in their camp before he could stop. 



One four-legged servant, not my own, was almost 

 a personality. His master, Major Sweetman, lies 

 in Mesopotamia now. Past fifty, there was no finer 

 man to hounds, enjoying his hunt with a schoolboy's 

 zest and absolutely fearless. He hunted here with 

 me for nine seasons, and he would fight when the 

 war came. Nothing else would content him. 

 Wounded once in France, he went out again to lose 

 his life leading his men hopelessly at Ctestiphon, 

 where there was never hope of winning through. 



His old horse, Loco, a low powerful brown, was 

 his favourite for years. A weird beast, always 

 fidgeting : when hounds went the best hunter in 

 the world, with a curious habit of propping on each 

 bank and looking down before he got off, but if 

 Loco thought that he was being jumped un- 

 necessary and away from hounds I have seen him 

 fall quite dehberately. Once he did it under Garry- 

 fine when he was right and his rider wrong and 

 there was no hurry to jump out of the field. He 

 simply folded himself up on the bank. 



Another time was near Athlacca. Hounds 

 crossed the river and Loco thought that he could 

 follow. I was watching them when I heard a 



