WILTS AND HORSES 329 



as the owners said, What were they to do with 

 the poor little horse ? Of course I must forget 

 all sage advice, pull up, and lend a hand. I 

 found that our united strength availed nothing to 

 clear the trap, and the cold wind did not fit the 

 extra warmth induced by exercise. In fact, the 

 mischief was done. I was reluctantly obliged to 

 consider myself and travel on. But at the pretty 

 little village, Coombe, I interviewed two fine lads 

 at the smithy, who left a half-finished horse-shoe 

 to cool, whipped off their leather aprons, and 

 were on the road at a double to the rescue before 

 you could say Jack Robinson or I could stand 

 them a drink for being jolly good fellows. 



So as to have a proper understanding of 

 myself, I soliloquised. Says I to myself, you 

 understand what you have been doing and what 

 you are to do. By force of circumstances you 

 have been driving about on the Downs in an open 

 trap and a not heavy ordinary walking suit, thin 

 socks, low shoes, giving chances for a bad cold to 

 come to you. Get away brisk now, stir your 

 stumps, don't slacken for anybody or anything 

 until, having got thoroughly warm, you have 

 sweated out the cold that may be coming. Then 

 you will have enjoyed yourself, and have had a 

 power of good done to you. Go at the job 

 half-heartedly, and, if harm does not come of the 

 slackness, count yourself better off than you 

 deserve, because you are flying in the face of 

 Providence. The matter is very simple : you 

 cannot afford to be any colder, and you must get 

 warmer. Anything like simmering down on the 

 way means bad trouble. This was Tuesday 

 night. On Wednesday I got to Newmarket, 

 where next morning, deluded by a patch of 



