io8 SKETCHES IN THE HUNTING FIELD. 



horse blunders and smashes the two top ones, without, 

 however, coming to grief. 



*' Strange thing about the mare, that she won't rise at 

 timber, isn't it ? " Fiuffyer says, as we cross the next 

 field, feeling that some sort of excuse is necessary. 

 " She's so good and clever at everything else, but you 

 saw she didn't half like even that low rail that 

 Scatterly left unbroken ? They seem to be bearing 

 rather to the right, don't they ? Through that gate 

 is the quickest way, I fancy;" and he gallops off, right 

 away from the line, to escape the fence in front of 

 us, which the first flight are over and the second are 

 engaged upon. 



Soon after we join again, and Wynnerly says, — 



"Now you'll have a chance with your water-jumper, 

 Fiuffyer. We are going straight for the Swish, and 

 it's pretty big, too, after the rain." 



"Where is it?" the after-dinner sportsman asks, not 

 exactly in eager tones. 



" Straight ahead, in the field by the clump of trees 

 there," Wynnerly replies, and into the field we gallop, 

 numerous splashes showing where hounds are jumping 

 in. Sir Henry, the master, is in his usual place, well with 

 the hounds, and over it he goes in gallant style. Keen 

 as Wynnerly is he cannot resist the fun of chaffing 

 Fiuffyer, and he encourages him to the attempt. 



" Go on, old man, and give us a good lead over! " he 

 cries ; and poor Fiuffyer, in a mortal funk, has no excuse 

 ready. 



