TOLD AFTER MESS 337 



was too far to bring any of my own select stud — 

 consisting of a musical one, with three legs and a 

 swinger, a bolter with a blind eye, and a 13.2 

 pony ! — up for the gallop. And what jolly gallops 

 they always were, too ! 



" One clay I got a wire from my excellent friend 

 Major Laughton, who was then Master of the Heavy- 

 shot, ' Come up, Friday. Lunch mess. Hounds 

 meet Pickles Common.' To which, in the degener- 

 ate language of the times, I wired reply, ' You bet/ 

 and one p.m. on the day named found my breeched 

 and booted legs beneath the mahogany of the hos- 

 pitable mess room. 



" Major Laughton, in greeting me, said, ' So sorry, 

 my dear boy, I can't give you my second horse, as 

 he's all wrong to-day — a severe " pain under the 

 pinafore " has floored him. But I've got you a gee 

 from — well, never mind where from, I know he can 

 jump.' And with these words the conversation 

 dropped. As to where my mount came from — 

 well, it was no concern of mine, was it ? I thought 

 I noticed a slight deflection of the gallant Major's 

 left eyelid when he was speaking, but that, after all, 

 might have been my fancy. 



" After putting in some strong work over the 

 luncheon course, we lit cigars, and in a few minutes 

 both horses and hounds appeared on the parade 



