A Question of Bits ij 



j^ Chippenham's somewhat sedate featm-es were 

 lightened by a smile. He was unquestionably pleased 

 at the result. 



' No dodge at all. Eather an absence of dodges,' he 

 answered ; and curiosity overcame discontent on Lawford's 

 face as he listened. ' It was merely a question of bits. I 

 remember the mare when Gates had her. No one could 

 hold her ; the stiffer the bit the more she pulled and the 

 less she jumped. I've known other horses, too, that go 

 very quietly and comfortably in the easiest of bits, and 

 won't go at all when their masters put on all sorts of 

 patent contrivances. When I saw the mare wdth what 

 Oakley called an ironmonger's shop in her mouth, I 

 thought very likely she would not go kindly. I tried her 

 with the easiest bit I could find. 



' Why, that's only a bit of rolled leather in her 

 mouth now, isn't it ? ' Oakley said, inspecting the 

 mare's lips, from w^hich the ironmonger's shop had lately 

 depended. 



* That's all, and she doesn't pull in the least,' 

 Chippenham answered. He was perfectly right. Other 

 men before him have by experience learnt the secret he 

 on this occasion successfully put into practice. Lawford 

 listened with evident surprise on his face, and Oakley 

 noted it. 



' The way she jumped out of that covert the other 

 day, when she was suddenly wheeled round and ridden 

 at the fence before she had time to think about it, showed 

 that she could jump, so I felt certain it was the bit,' the 

 winner of the match continued. 



' What was that you told us the other day, Lawford ? ' 

 Oakley says, smiling at the discomfited owner of the 

 mare that had w^on. ' The art of horsemanship does not 



c 



