88 His Own Petard 



reared. Perkinson was riding along savagely, pondering 

 over a paragraph which had appeared in one of the 

 sporting papers. The writer had hunted a day with the 

 Heatherley Hounds, and in a few terse lines had more 

 than hinted at the uncomfortable state of things in the 

 country. This had raised Perkinson's wrath against 

 those who should have been his friends, for he failed to 

 see that he w'as to be blamed, and he only. 



' Take care w^here you are going, sir ! ' Bob called 

 out, as his master turned into a gateway and set off at a 

 canter across a rushy meadow. Perkinson took no notice, 

 not understanding the reason of the caution ; w4ien 

 suddenly he found that his horse was up to his fetlocks, 

 and the next stride nearly up to his knees, his rider 

 barely saving a fall as the animal stopped abruptly. He 

 was in a bog, though, luckily for him, not in the worst 

 part of it ; but only with a good deal of splashing up of 

 black mud was he able to escape. 



* I holloaed out to you, sir ! ' Bob said, as he stood 

 at the edge of the sound turf. 



' Why the devil couldn't you say what it was ? ' Per- 

 kinson growled. 



' I called as soon as ever I saw where you was going, 

 sir. It's very bad in some parts about here, and very 

 deceptive like ; you don't know that they're there till 

 you're in 'em. We shall have to take care when we come 

 here, or some of the gentlemen '11 get into a mess,' was 

 Bob's rejoinder. 



' Some of the gentlemen will get into a mess ! ' How 

 ardently Perkinson wished they would ! It w^ould be a 

 lesson to that supercilious young ass Hedworth not to 

 ride over hounds, Perkinson thought ; for he had really 

 half persuaded himself that Hedworth — the cheeriest and 



