Volume Ii Part 6 (1/2)

Frank Cropper went in for a good breakfast on the morning of the last of the season, took plenty of jumping powder in the shape of Kentish cherry brandy, and topped it up with some curacoa.

”I feel,” says Cropper, as he got into the train, and was talking to some City friends who were bound on the same errand as myself; ”I feel, my boys, that I shall take the lead to-day, and keep it, too. Ha, ha!

What do you think of that? A church would not stop me. Temple Bar I should take in my stride, if my horse could jump it. I'm chockful of go this morning; I shall distinguish myself.”

”Or extinguish yourself,” remarked one.

Cigars and an occasional nip at their pocket pistols whiled away the time till the train arrived at its destination; there, Cropper and another took a fly, and drove the three miles they had to go. They were quite determined they would not dirt their boots or spotless leathers by a three miles' ride; they would appear at the meet as bright as their No. 1 pinks, Day & Martin, and Probert's paste could make them.

”There they are!” exclaimed Cropper's friend, as he caught sight of the hounds drawn up on a small common. ”By Jupiter, but there's a lot out!

it's the last day of the season.”

Cropper descended from the fly in all the glories of his ulster coat and overalls; his horses were there under the charge of spicy-looking Master d.i.c.k.

The overalls were slipped off, and, with the ulster, consigned to the driver to leave at the station; and our hero mounted his horse and was ready for the fray.

Now, this meet not being far from town, and a large number of the London division being present, the worthy master, having a proper regard for his hounds, thought a few jumps might choke off a good many who would press upon the hounds. So he had the deer uncarted some three-quarters of a mile from where they were, the van containing him was backed not very far from a flight of sheep-hurdles, and a double line of foot people being formed, the door of the cart opened and out leapt the stag. Looking around him for an instant, he started away at a quick trot, and then, as the shouting became louder, commenced to canter, cleared the hurdles, and was away.

”Lot of these London cads down here to-day,” remarked young Lord Reckless to his friend Sir Henry Careful. ”Don't know, 'pon my soul, what they come here for.”

”For about the same reason you do--to see the hounds, and get a fall or two.”

”Ah, that's all very fine,” retorted his Lords.h.i.+p, ”for you to say so.

You never ride at anything, therefore you are pretty safe. I ride at everything.”

”But never by any chance get over,” interrupted the baronet, ”except through your horse's ears.”

What more they said was cut short by the hounds coming up on the line of the stag, and racing away.

I got over the hurdles all right, and so did most of the field; but at the second fence I was down. And I saw Cropper unseated at the same instant, and his horse galloping wildly away at the third fence. d.i.c.k was shot through his horse's ears into the next field.

I was rus.h.i.+ng about for mine, over my ankles in mud, when I encountered Frank Cropper and his man d.i.c.k in the middle of the slough.

”Where the deuce is my second horse?” roared Cropper to his servant. ”I thought I told you to ride him to the points.”

”So I was going to, sir; but he stumbled, and uns.h.i.+pped me.”

”Good heavens! what is to be done?” exclaimed Cropper. ”I shall lose the run. Here, you fellows,” to a lot of countrymen about, ”catch the horses--half-a-crown each for them.”

But the nags were not so easily caught, and it was half an hour before they were secured. Both I and Cropper were wet and cold; so, leaving d.i.c.k to go on with the horses by train to London, and get the coats at the station, Cropper and I started on foot to walk there. He was too bruised and cold to ride; so was I.

You may suppose that the remarks we heard going along were not complimentary: ”Two gents in scarlet as has been throwed from their 'orses, and a-stumping of it home,” etc.

At last I was getting nearly beat, and so was my friend, when we espied a fly coming along the road. In it was seated Warner of the Welsh Harp at Hendon. Taking pity on us, he gave us a lift, and drove us to the nearest station, and we reached London in due time.

This was the last of my hunting experiences. I got disgusted with it, and sold my horses. Having read flaming accounts from Cook's tourists, some of whom had been round the world in ninety days, I packed up my guns and some clothes, and started for America.

I did not remain long in New York, as I was anxious to commence shooting. So I was not long in getting to the small town of ----, and, putting up at the best hotel the place afforded, which was not a very good one, sent for the landlord.

”Wall, Britisher, I'm glad to see yeu,” commenced the American Boniface, coolly seating himself on the table, and commencing spitting at a bluebottle fly on the floor. ”So yeu've come here to see our glorious American Const.i.tootion. Wall, I guess yeu'll be pretty considerable surprised--tarnation surprised, doggoned if you won't.