196 SPORTING REMINISCENCES 



" Why the . . . Where the . . . etc. etc. 

 Taking my place, sir . . . three times . . . 

 manners . . . etc." 



The worm turned. 



" I don't know what you're talking about, 

 sir," he roared out, belligerent now himself. 



" Don't suppose you do, sir. I was talking 

 about fox-hunting," and away elbows up as 

 hounds hit off the line. 



Another reply to an M.F.H. who was unneces- 

 sarily rude was almost too ready. 



This Master, having lost his fox, was in the 

 peppery mood of a thwarted man when the ready 

 one galloped up to say that he had just seen the 

 fox and pointed to the left. Now the Master had 

 made up his mind that his fox had gone in the 

 opposite direction. 



He thundered out bitterly that he did not wish 

 to be instructed how to hunt his fox by — well, 

 clever men were not his words . . . and went his 

 own way. 



Pat came the answer. 



" Well, you've been at it for seven years and not 

 learnt how. High time somebody taught you ! . . ." 

 and the adviser rode away with the honours of the 

 verbal tussle. 



I was once among the most disconcerted group 

 who ever abused a Master. 



Wrongful blame had fallen on one sportsman, 

 who sat gloomily thoughtful ; the Master was 



