AN UNLUCKY SPORTSMAN. 55 



away towards the right and going at a reaching gallop 

 ■ — ^just about as fast as a wise man dares to go at the 

 beginning of what may be the run of the season, keep- 

 ing something in hand and yet not pulling so as to 

 make his horse tire itself by fighting for the bit. The 

 tag end of the hunt, evidently, and hounds are off on a 

 hot scent, Chansett thought, as he took his horse by the 

 head and set off after his fleeting friend. He was a 

 good deal behind, for, so far as Chansett could see, there 

 was no one else between them and the spot where the 

 Downs merged into woodland. He had not misjudged 

 the good horse under him, which slipped over the 

 ground at racing pace, rather faster than Chansett 

 would have cared to go, but that he found he did not 

 diminish the gap between himself and the man ahead. 

 If, in fact, hounds were running straight away from them, 

 the chances of catching them seemed problematical, 

 though of course one never knows how or when hounds 

 may turn. At the top of the Downs where the wood 

 began, there might be something more to see ; and 

 Chansett pictured to himself the hunt below him, 

 hounds coming rather towards him than otherwise, so 

 that he could breathe his horse, trot down gently and 

 join in, well ahead with an animal under him fresher 

 than any in the field — though the pace for the last mile 

 had been fast. The horse he was on could jump, and 

 he guessed the sort of fences there would be in the vale. 

 Fortune owed him a turn ; clearly his luck had changed, 

 and on he galloped merrily. 



