A DAY WITH THE DRAG 215 



almost gallop through, form the only obstacles. 

 We jump into a park, and " Ware hole ! " is the 

 cry : we pull off to the right of where hounds are 

 running in order to avoid the home of the ubiqui- 

 tous bunny, but not soon enough, unluckily, to save 

 one youngster from a tumble : the horse puts his 

 foot in a rabbit hole and rolls over as if he is shot. 

 " Not hurt a bit ! Go on," calls out the rider, 

 pluckily. Yes, no doubt about it, this is the game 

 for the making of young soldiers. On we go, now 

 descending a geutle slope to where an ominous 

 little crowd of yokels and loafers are lining a 

 narrow strip of green on each side : a second glance, 

 as we rise in our stirrups for inspection purposes, 

 shows us that this is evidently looked upon as the 

 sensation '* lep " of the run : a good sized brook, in 

 front of which have been placed some stout, well 

 furze-bushed hurdles. The scent has been thought- 

 fully laid a little on one side of this, so there is no 

 fear of stray hounds getting in one's way. One 

 look shows us that it will take a bit of doing, and 

 hats are crammed on, and horses "taken by the 

 head " in earnest, as the three leading men come 

 along at it. A quick glance round and a lightning 

 calculation as to where you'll go to, shoiild your 

 neighbour whip round or fall just in front of you, 

 and then a vigorous hoist over the hurdles carries 



