Some Equine Erratics 249 



stone with comfort. He was an Irishman, 

 and I never came across such a sporting bit 

 of stuff in my life. He ivoidd hunt, whether 

 his rider was a g-ood man or no. On one 

 occasion, I remember that we ran into a 

 big wood, with the Crawley and Horsham 

 Foxhounds. I could hear George Loader give 

 a holloa every now and then ; sometimes it 

 sounded to the right of me, sometimes to 

 the left. Billv was listenino; intentlv, and 

 just at the moment that I had made up my 

 mind to push through the dense underwood 

 right-handed, he had come to the conclusion 

 that the holloa was from the left. I tried 

 my utmost to get the old horse to go my 

 way, but he mildly, though firmly, refused. 

 Billv was an old hand at the o-ame, and I, 

 at the time, a young one. The horse got 

 his own way, of course, crashed through 

 the wood left-handed, and soon proved how 

 correct his ear had been bv bringinof me into 

 the midst of the fun again. 



The way the old fellow opened the latch 

 of a gate with his nose and lips was very 



