Why all this is, I can't say; but it all took
place the second Thursday of last March, in my presence.
Up to this, I'd kept my seat as well as the best, for we'd only been
trotting gently about the field until the dogs found; and I managed
to stick on very well; but directly the tow-rowing began, off went
Trumpeter like a thunderbolt, and I found myself playing among the
dogs like the donkey among the chickens. "Back, Mr. Coxe," holloas
the huntsman; and so I pulled very hard, and cried out, "Wo!" but he
wouldn't; and on I went galloping for the dear life. How I kept on is a
wonder; but I squeezed my knees in very tight, and shoved my feet very
hard into the stirrups, and kept stiff hold of the scruff of Trumpeter's
neck, and looked betwixt his ears as well as ever I could, and trusted
to luck: for I was in a mortal fright, sure enough, as many a better man
would be in such a case, let alone a poor hairdresser.
As for the hounds, after my first riding in among them, I tell you
honestly, I never saw so much as the tip of one of their tails; nothing
in this world did I see except Trumpeter's dun-colored mane, and that I
gripped firm: riding, by the blessing of luck, safe through the walking,
the trotting, the galloping, and never so much as getting a tumble.
Pages:
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592