AN UNLUCKY SPORTSjMAN. 6i 



The man gazed blankly. 



" That's the name, sir, that I was to bring the horse 

 to, and here I was, wasn't I, Jim ? " and he appealed 

 to an ostler who had strolled up to hear the colloquy. 



"You was, 'Arry," Jim answered. 



" Master says to me, you walk her down gently to the 

 Cross Keys for the gentleman, he says." 



" To the Cross Roads," Chansett interrupted. " I 

 drove to the meet and expected to find the horse 

 there." 



" Cross Keys, master says. That's the way we 

 always does. Hunting gentlemen come down by the 

 8.15 express and their 'osses is waiting for 'em 'ere 

 when they come. That's always the rule." 



Chansett looked up and saw the sign-board, two 

 huge keys crossed over each other, swinging above his 

 head. 



Whether the master had made a slip, or whether the 

 man, accustomed to a certain routine, had let the order 

 fall upon unheeding ears and done as he was used to 

 doing, did not appear. It was twelve o'clock, there was 

 the horse, there was poor Chansett ; where the hounds 

 might be v.^as more than doubtful. 



" My usual luck ! " he muttered, and, I fear, added 

 something rude about the innocent Cross Keys, creaking 

 slowly above. 



When, therefore, Chansett tells us that he is going to 

 hunt, light-hearted young men ask him what are the odds 

 about it, advise him not to say where he is going till he 



