THE FIRST MEET OF THE S HOUNDS, 167 



legs, and watches his steed cantering off on its own 

 account. 



I am gradually becoming conscious that there is an 

 awkward brook in front, and doubts as to the little iron- 

 grey's probable proceedings (he never having been 

 ridden at a stream) begin to assert themselves. In a 

 high flight of rails, guided by the Major, I find a broken 

 place, and then, over more grass — there is no doubt 

 about it — we are coming to a brook, and a good-sized 

 one moreover. 



The gallant colt pricks his ears, but there is no doubt 

 that he means to have it, and indeed he clears it with a 

 bound which lands his hind-legs a good yard the other 

 side. More than one bath takes place here, and at a 

 nasty blind fence with a ditch on the landing side, over 

 which the iron-grey gets with rather a bad stumble, 

 more of the followers are stopped. The plough is cruelly 

 wet and heavy, and the rather flashy horse my friend is 

 riding (this morning at breakfast I did certainly say it 

 looked like going ; but then, what can you say under 

 such circumstances ?) is done, and labours on with heav- 

 ing flanks and panting nostrils. Neither is the iron- 

 grey going by any means so freely as he was five 

 minutes ago, so that in the interests of safety and self- 

 preservation I am compelled reluctantly to wake him 

 up at the next fence. 



Our Master still goes at ease, as do the huntsman and 

 whips on their seasoned hunters ; the Major keeps his 

 place a little in the rear ; some half-dozen pink coats, 



