58 SKETCHES IN THE HUNTING FIELD. 



telegram out, and in the course of a couple of hours 

 back came the answer. " Good horse shall be sent as 

 ordered. Cross Roads, Thursday." 



" Well ! Unless the brute he sends falls down and 

 breaks something on the way, I should think you are all 

 right this time ! " Flutterton said, as he went off to 

 catch the train, after giving the most elaborate direc- 

 tions how Chansett was to travel next day. 



The luckless man arrived at Flutterton's station in 

 due course, was driven to the house, dined — comfortably, 

 I have no doubt, from pleasant experiences — and ap- 

 peared next morning at breakfast in boots and breeches, 

 resolved to do justice to his good luck. The dog-cart 

 came round in plenty of time, and Flutterton's mother 

 and sisters waved a cheery adieu from the dining-room 

 window as the horse trotted down the avenue, out of the 

 lodge gates, and along the way to the Cross Roads. 

 Through the market-town they clattered, passing on 

 the way many mounted men with coats of all colours, a 

 plentiful supply of pinks among the number. 



''There's one of Gates' horses," Flutterton said, 

 pointing with his whip as a horse and rider emerged 

 from the arch leading from the principal inn. " Not a 

 bad-looking one." 



*' That's probably the one he's sent for me, I should 

 think, and that fellow's got him by mistake. That 

 would be just my luck," Chansett exclaimed. 



"No, but it isn't. The man who's on it has it regu- 

 larly. You're all right for once ! " 



