Peshawur and the Khybcr Pass 53 



trying to do ditto ; at number three there was a crash, 

 his horse was fairly on his back in the bottom of the 

 dyke, and a pink coat was clinging desperately to the 

 top of the bank. 



On over the bridge the rest of us flew, and as we 

 rise the opposite side we view our jack not fifty yards 

 in front of the leading hounds. Tally ho ! yonder 

 he goes ! 



There is a scream for the good of the hard-working 

 pack, as well as for the field's own enthusiasm. Now 

 he gains a small plantation and baffles hounds for a 

 moment ; now they are all but on him ; but no he 

 slips out of Ranger's jaws and saves his skin. Only 

 for a moment. Bonnybell and Dauntless are upon 

 him, his gallant legs fail and his head is swimming a 

 last effort, and he is no more. . . . Who-whoop ! . . . 

 Up come the panting hounds, and while the last 

 obsequies are performed we jump off, loosen our girths, 

 and breathe our mounts. They look as though they 

 want it, especially some of the smaller ponies, who have 

 been hustled along faster than they like. It reminds 

 one of 



Ride with an idle whip, ride with an unused heel, 

 But once in a way there will come a day 

 When the colt must be taught to feel 



The lash that falls, and the curb that galls, and the sting 

 of the ro welled steel." 



It was a seven-mile point, and we had come round- 

 about, time a little over an hour : what more do you 

 want ? At any rate, a good many of us felt we had 



