they settled into their stride across the open, and began to taste the not unmixed pleasures of fox-hunting.
The scent was good, the line of country mostly grass, the fences fair, and both girls did credit to the reformed style, Lesbia generally giving the lead to her friend. The run had lasted about twenty minutes without a check, the fox making straight up wind; our two girls were still in the first flight, and a few yards in rear of the master—who was a hard man to beat—when they crossed a large pasture which they had entered over a small double rail and ditch. The master here bore away to the left, toward a gap visible in the formidable stake-and-bind fence which bounded the field on its opposite side, and toward the middle part of which the hounds were running. This move was followed by the rest of the field, including Miss Blemmyketts, for reasons which they judged sufficient, after a cursory glance at the stake-and-bind; but Lesbia, whose courage was rather warmed than otherwise by her little misadventure at the start, determined to stick to the hounds as long as possible, and trust to the chapter of accidents for getting out of the pasture. Arrived at the gap, the master and huntsman found that it had been lately repaired, two sheep-hurdles having been bound together in it, end upwards, with wire, and supported by very sharp stakes, which again had been wattled at the bottom.
‘What’s to do now, Miller?’ said the master; ‘they’ve been playing the deuce here!’
‘Yes, Sir Richard,’ answered the huntsman. ‘I'd better try and pull that hurdle down; it won't do as it is, I reckon.’
He was off his horse in a moment and tugging away at the vexatious obstacle, which was well anathematised by eager riders coming up one after another; but it was quite three minutes before they could get the place open
