M.—Hold on there! I don't wish to be told. Every man has his moods and tenses sometimes.
G. (laughing bitterly).—Has he? What do you call craning over to see where your brute's near-fore lands?
M.—In my case it means that I have been on the Considerable Bend, and have come to parade with a Head and a Hand. It passes in three strides.
G. (lowering voice).—It never passes with me, Jack. I'm always thinking about it. Phil Gadsby funking a fall on parade! Sweet picture, isn't it? Draw it for me.
M. (gravely).—Heaven forbid! A man like you can't be as bad as that. A fall is no nice thing, but one never gives it a thought.
G.—Doesn't one? Wait till you've got a wife and a youngster of your own, and then you'll know how the roar of the squadron behind you turns you cold all up the back.
M. (aside).—And this man led at Amdheran after Bagal-Deasin went under, and we were all mixed up together, and he came out of the show dripping like a butcher! (Aloud.) Skittles! The men can always open out, and you can always pick your way more or less. We haven't the dust to bother us, as the men have, and who ever heard of a horse stepping on a man?
G.—Never as long as he can see. But did they open out for poor Errington?
M.—Oh, this is childish!
G.—I know it is, and worse than that. I don't care. You've ridden Van Loo. Is he the sort of animal to pick his way—'specially when we're coming up in column of troop with any pace on?
M.—Once in a Blue Moon do we gallop in column of troop, and then only to save time. Aren't three lengths enough for you?
G.—Yes—quite enough. They just allow for the full development of the smash. I'm talking like a cur, I know; but I tell you that, for the past three months, I've felt every
