92 



His Own Petard 



usual. Perkinson lay well to the right of the pack, a 

 few followed him ; but the bulk of the field w^ere rather 

 to the left of the hounds, which leaned somewhat in that 

 direction. 



Thus a good mile was crossed. There had only been 

 one ploughed field ; meadow, stubble, and the corner of 

 a common had made up the rest of the ground. Now 

 they were in a field intersected by very narrow water- 

 courses, with patches of rushes here and there. The plot 

 was thickening : that is to say, the bog was not far off. 

 Perkinson could see the clump of trees that grew close to 

 the place where he had almost been in it — very black 

 and nasty ii was there — but that was nothing to the 

 thick of it, in which his enemies would soon be splashing. 

 Hedworth w^as just where Perkinson wished him to be — 

 well in front. A lad on a thoroughbred horse, some- 

 thing that was being got ready for a hunt meeting, was 

 leading ; Charlton's horse had hit a rail rather hard and 

 blundered on landing, but had speedily recovered, and 

 Perkinson watched the recovery with much satisfaction. 

 At another time he would have been glad to see Charlton 

 down ; this day he desired to see him the victim of another 

 disaster. 



Perkinson had been at particular pains, on the day 

 when he first became aware of the existence of these bogs, 

 to get their bearings. Hightree Hill was straight before 

 them ; some way to the left was a range of farm build- 

 ings, and just about midway between the two landmarks, 

 the way they were now heading, were the ' deceptive- 

 like ' morasses. Nearer and nearer went the boy on the 

 thoroughbred, and now by good fortune, as it appeared 

 to Perkinson, either he checked the speed, or Hedworth 

 went faster ; at any rate, Hedworth was now leading, 



