A RECORD RUN 115 



ment upon such details, for hounds were carrying a breast- 

 high scent, and were heading for a lovely line of country. 

 Farmer Sanders was one of the first over the big bank 

 and newly-cleared ditch that had to be negotiated ere 

 the grass field was entered. Quickly following in his 

 wake rode the Master and perhaps a score of others; 

 not more, for the preliminary jump was a bit of a " yaw- 

 ner," and a convenient lane, running parallel with the 

 line taken by hounds, afforded excellent going to the 

 " tailor and cockney " sportsmen, from which classes 

 of horsemen the field on that particular day was largely 

 recruited. The pace was a " clinker," the going all that 

 could be desired, and a finer line of country it would have 

 been hard to find in any corn-growing country. 



" Yonder 's a double with a big drop and a brook on 

 t' other side," shouted Sanders pro bono as he pointed 

 towards a stiff bullfinch which was of such a height as 

 to render it impossible to see what lay beyond. " Swish ! " 

 and old Kitty bored her way through the thorny fence, 

 and dropped, cat-Hke, at least eight feet into the rutty 

 lane beyond. Then a stride and a half, another cat-like 

 scramble on the part of the old Irish mare we were riding ; 

 bang through a thicker and thornier bullfinch than the 

 first, and we found ourselves, minus a hat, and with face 

 scored like the back of a Christmas sucking pig, safely 

 over the double. 



Still there lay a wide, rotten-banked brook yawning 

 a dozen lengths ahead. But Kitty — an ancient chaser — 

 knew her business as well as she loved it, and with a 

 snort and a toss of her ugly old coffin head, she put on full 

 steam and flew the obstacle with a good six feet to spare. 

 The man on our right, however, a well-known sporting 



