A ROUGH HOUR WITH THE PYTCHLEY 43 



up after some fifteen minutes more, on Studboro' Hill 

 (I give the name of this fir-topped landmark more parti- 

 cularly, as it will be found a prominent centre-point also 

 in Monday's run, below). Briefly now, hounds hunted 

 towards Staverton's wooded hill once more. But a three- 

 field strip of cold plough baffled them, and, though 

 Goodall afterwards touched a line over the main earths, 

 scent was not sufficiently holding to allow of carrying on. 

 Time to the final check, one hour ten minutes — an ex- 

 cellent rough hunt. I hold out the word roKgh to secure 

 a compromise from those — and they were not a few — 

 who for one reason or another expressed themselves as 

 not entirely satisfied with everything that came in their 

 way. And I admit that the chilly, wet snowstorm was 

 by no means calculated to soothe a bosom ruffled by 

 contretemps or irritated by disappointment. 



Apropos it was positively refreshing and admirable to 

 remark an instance in which a very complete and con- 

 firmed casualty only elicited a merry laugh, and a query 

 " Did you see that ? " from the sufferer. 



I have already told you that among our first flight of 

 recent seasons are numbered some three or four excellent 

 cross-country riders whose training has been mostly on 

 the flat. Now if there is one essential to the making of a 

 high-class jockey it is that his head should be screwed on 

 the right way. But just towards the end of the run in 

 question it as near as possible befell one of these,^ pos- 

 sessing in the highest degree that qualification, that his 

 head should become unscrewed altogether. The mare 

 pecked, half recovered herself, pecked again, and deposited 

 the professional slowly on to his neck with his heels poised 

 high in the air. His head was tucked, like St. Patrick's, 

 under his arm ; and upon this axis he proceeded to revolve 

 — while his spurs glistened aloft apparently quite satisfied 

 with their position and balance, for many seconds, and 

 showed no sign of a wish to gravitate earthward. Their 

 owner belongs to the category of heavy-weight jockeys — 

 which means that he weighs about as much as half a 

 huntsman, or perhaps two-thirds of a whipper-in. But 



' F. Webb. 



