212 SKETCHES IN THE HUNTING FIELD. 



why — it can't be. Yes — there he is ! Look ! look, 

 Dick ! " 



At the second fence — some posts and rails — which 

 the horses were just approaching for the second time, 

 was Wyatt, fighting angrily with his refractory mount. 

 Persuasion hadn't succeeded in making him jump, so 

 his jockey was trying abuse. Beauclerc remembered 

 having heard Dick say, "He'd go at a haystack — I 

 don't say jump it, but he'd try;" and the fence which 

 stopped him now was nothing. The others rushed 

 over, and then, momentarily inspired by the example, 

 Wyatt's beast went at it also with a feeble sort of hop, 

 knocked all his four legs hard, and, having tumbled 

 down, didn't seem to care at all about getting up any 

 more. 



"Look at him! Do you see?" cried Beauclerc, 

 gazing through his field-glasses. 



"No, I don't," Dick answered, with his glass focussed 

 on the performance ; " and if you can see Achates, all I 

 can say is I congratulate you on your eyesight, for that 

 noble animal is at the present moment comfortably 

 reposing in his stall at Hednesford." 



" What ! why — who, then ? " vaguely cried Beau- 

 clerc, less than ever able to make it out. 



" I'll tell you directly. Look out ! Here they 

 come ! " And they did come ; only three in it now, 

 Konig leading, but evidently with labour; then, neck- 

 and-neck, Hades and the mare ; but she is going well 

 within herself, and the man on Hades is hard at work. 



