'You'll beat
me in pace,' said the lady as he rode up alongside of her. 'Take
the fence ahead straight, and then turn sharp to your right.'
With all her faults, Mrs Spooner was a thorough sporstman.
He did take the fence ahead,--or rather tried to do so. It was a
bank and a double ditch,--not very great in itself, but requiring a
horse to land on the top and go off with a second spring. Our
young friend's nag, not quite understanding the nature of the
impediment, endeavoured to 'swallow it whole', as hard-riding men
say, and came down in the further ditch. Silverbridge came down on
his head, but the horse pursued his course,--across a heavily-
ploughed field.
This was very disagreeable. He was not in the least hurt, but it
became his duty to run after his horse. A very few furrows of that
work suffice to make a man think that hunting was a 'beastly sort
of thing'. Mrs Spooner's horse, who had shown himself to be a
little less quick of foot than his own, had known all about the
bank and the double ditch, and had, apparently of his own accord,
turned down to the right, either seeing or hearing the hounds, and
knowing that the ploughed ground was to be avoided.
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