AN AFTER-DINNER SPORTSMAN. 103 



"What's he doing?" I asked. 



"I can't make out," Wynnerly said, looking care- 

 fully; 'and presently he exclaimed, "Why, its Fluffyer!" 



" Who's he ? " I inquired. 



"A wonderful good rider ; cuts us all down, and does 

 marvels." 



"Really?" I ask, Wynnerly's tone having a shade 

 of sarcasm in it. 



"Ask him, my dear fellow. He says so, and of 

 course he ought to know. What the deuce is he 

 at ? " Wynnerly inquired as we approached, and saw 

 Fluffyer draw from his pocket a little round silver con- 

 trivance about the size of a crown. " Come on ; we 

 shall have some fun ! " he said, as he rode up to the 

 mysterious Fluffyer. 



" Good morning ! what's your little game out here 

 all by yourself? By the way, let me introduce my 

 friend. Mr. Rapier— l\Ir. Fluffyer." 



" Good morning ! " Fluffyer answered. " I just came 

 to measure the jump that we crossed yesterday. I 

 don't think you came this way, did you ? I fancy I saw 

 you in the next field just before. My bay horse simply 

 flew over here, and I thought I would see what we 

 cleared." 



"A very good way," Wynnerly declared, as grave 

 as a judge. "You measure it carefully, and then you 

 are satisfied." 



"Quite so. Then there can be no doubt about it,'' 

 Fluffyer answered. 



