credit.  He had been riding since he was a child, as is the custom with all boys in Munster, and had an Irishman’s natural aptitude for jumping.  When they got back to the Willingford Bull he felt pleased with the day and rather proud of himself.  “It wasn’t fast, you know,” said Chiltern, “and I don’t call that a stiff country.  Besides, Meg is very handy when you’ve got her out of the crowd.  You shall ride Bonebreaker to-morrow at Somerby, and you’ll find that better fun.”

“Bonebreaker?  Haven’t I heard you say he rushes like mischief?”

“Well, he does rush.  But, by George! you want a horse to rush in that country.  When you have to go right through four or five feet of stiff green wood, like a bullet through a target, you want a little force, or you’re apt to be left up a tree.”

“And what do you ride?”

“A brute I never put my leg on yet.  He was sent down to Wilcox here, out of Lincolnshire, because they couldn’t get anybody to ride him there.  They say he goes with his head up in the air, and won’t look at a fence that isn’t as high as his breast.  But I think he’ll do here.  I never saw a better made beast, or one with more power.  Do you look at his shoulders.  He’s to be had for seventy pounds, and these are the sort of horses I like to buy.”

Again they dined alone, and Lord Chiltern explained to Phineas that he rarely associated with the men of either of the hunts in which he rode.  “There is a set of fellows down here who are poison to me, and there is another set, and I am poison to them.  Everybody is very civil, as you see, but I have no associates.  And gradually I am getting to have a reputation as though I were the devil himself.  I think I shall come out next year dressed entirely in black.”

“Are you not wrong to give way to that kind of thing?”

“What the deuce am I to do?  I can’t make civil little speeches.  When once a man gets a reputation as an ogre, it is the most difficult thing in the world to drop it.  I could have a score of men here every day if I liked it,—­my title would do that for me;—­but they would be men I should loathe, and I should be sure to tell them so, even though I did not mean it.  Bonebreaker, and the new horse, and another, went on at twelve to-day.  You must expect hard work to-morrow, as I daresay we shan’t be home before eight.”

The next day’s meet was in Leicestershire, not far from Melton, and they started early.  Phineas, to tell the truth of him, was rather afraid of Bonebreaker, and looked forward to the probability of an accident.  He had neither wife nor child, and nobody had a better right to risk his neck.  “We’ll put a gag on ’im,” said the groom, “and you’ll ride ’im in a ring,—­so that you may well-nigh break his jaw; but he is a rum un, sir.”  “I’ll do my best,” said Phineas.  “He’ll take all that,” said the groom.  “Just let him have his own way at everything,” said Lord Chiltern, as they moved away from the meet to Pickwell Gorse; “and