168 SPORTING REMINISCENCES 



crescendo of enraged language and looked. There 

 was Loco quite deliberately falling over a two-foot 

 stick of timber, slowly decanting Major Sweetman 

 into a muddy gap. This something something 

 horse. He didn't want to go — was almost a 

 wail. 



But he always saw the humour of old Loco's 

 falls. I had many rides on the horse. He never 

 dreamt of pulling me down wherever I took him, 

 but he took complete charge of me and went 

 exactly as he chose, over wire sometimes I am 

 afraid. It was a regular outing for the old fellow 

 and he took advantage of it. He had a mouth of 

 iron. 



There is no habit so fatal for a poor person as 

 keeping on old hunters until they are past their 

 work, but I am so hard to please that when I get 

 one I like he remains until the hobble and cripple 

 of old age set in. Two old friends have gone this 

 year, Blackie and Miss Magner. 



About forty in all have come and gone, I 

 have their hst, and I have ridden perhaps thirty 

 others, mounts given me. I used to like riding 

 youngsters and have even been rash enough to 

 take out things which had never jumped — but 

 only in the wall country. 



Clumsy was one of these. I remember his 

 hurling himself across country absolutely loving 

 it all, and being bought on the strength of that 

 hunt. Another, an enormous grey up to seventeen 



