356 THE CREAM OF LEICESTERSHIRE. [Season 



by the trifle of deep deep rides. Tally-ho- Over at one point; a 

 false start from covert at another ; two circles round the little 

 wood — and twenty men are listening with bated breath close 

 to the exit on the Gaddesby side ; while hounds are working 

 their way through the thicket close by, and the rest of the field 

 are j^osted at chosen spots in and around the covert. Huic 

 Away ! Huic Away ! ! He has gone without being viewed. 

 Hounds are away, and we shall all be left behind as j^esterday. 

 The thought is maddening ; and the rush for the gateway is as 

 fierce as the scramble from a church on fire. Into the muddy 

 lane. Out bej'ond into the open grass field that borders the 

 Gorse. Not a hound in sight ; but ]\Ir. William Chaplin, hat 

 in air, riding down to the gate in the opposite fence. The 

 Master's trumpet sounds sonorouslj', and Fut and a consider- 

 able following come streaming from the main ride. Ah, how 

 lucky, a gate so exactly placed — and a good fellow who Avill 

 just have opened it by the time we can reach it to gallop 

 tln'ough. Oh dear, oh dear ! what a pace hounds must be 

 going ! what idiots were we to be standing still ! Eh ! what ! ! 

 Locked — by all that's holy ! The fence is a rufiianly one, 

 and horses have been jiulled out of their stride. No help for 

 it. Mr. Harter whips round to fl}' the hairy ditch and sturdy 

 rails, quickly followed by Mr. Barclay and Mr. Chaplin, while 

 Firr springs over parallel to them, and the}' light into the field 

 just m time to see Phantasy's white stern whisking through 

 the next fence in pursuit. Rough ridge and furrow, forty acres 

 of anthills — is this a field for making up ground ? You will 

 do better by catching the headland, though it does carry you 

 off to the right. Strong-timbered fences, chasing pace, a horse 

 that is fit — isn't this life and fun ? Blood of man and heart 

 of horse are beating stroke for stroke. Each stride is a 

 responsive effort, each jump is jointly-timed action. No fear 

 of mistake or fall while the enthusiasm is thus mutual, the 

 object in common. This is why a steeple-chaser jumps so 

 freely and faultlessly. He is never baulked by, but works ever 

 in confidence with his rider. There is no moment of 



