CHAPTER VI 



When our blood ran rapidly and when 

 Our bones were pliant and limber, 

 Could we stand a merry cross-counter then, 

 A slogging fall over timber. 



LINDSAY GORDON. 



To what extent men can learn to fall is an oft- 

 disputed point. The Druid, in writing of Tilbury the 

 dealer, says: "To take his tilbury into a field and 

 turn it neatly over and step out of it, without the 

 horse falling, was another sleight-of-hand diversion 

 with the ribbons to which he was peculiarly partial." 

 This would go to show that falling out of a trap can be 

 reduced to an exact science. Still, I am bound to add 

 that, although I have at different times upset a good 

 many traps, I usually adopted the more popular method 

 and fell out; only once can I remember landing neatly 

 on my feet. 



The peon in Entre Rios, when his horse fell or 

 pecked from any cause, would invariably open his legs, fly 

 over its head and land on his feet. If a peon failed to 

 do this, no matter what pace he was going, he was looked 

 upon as a duffer. Their long seat (the toe merely in the 

 stirrups), and the shape of their "recado" or saddle, all 

 helped them to bring off this trick. Moreover, they 

 came away the moment a horse pecked, which one does not 

 wish to do when hunting. When riding to hounds, then, I 

 don't think one can emulate Mr. Tilbury or the peon. 

 But by keeping a cool head and knowing just what your 

 horse is doing, one can often save oneself to a great 

 extent. If a horse fairly gets his knees under timber 

 or a strong stake and bound, it is no good sitting tight. 

 The quicker the rider realises his position and comes 

 away from his horse the better, and a quick wriggle when 

 on the ground may save him a crushing from his horse. 



