At the meet I examined my mount closely while the man was lengthening my stirrup.  Havoc, as he was called, was a dark chestnut, 16.1, with a coat like the back of a violin and a spiteful little head.  He had an enormous bit on; and I was glad to see a leather strap under the curb-chain.

When I was mounted, Peter kept close to my side and said: 

“You’re on a topper!  Take him where you like, but ride your own line.”

To which I replied: 

“Why?  Does he rush?  I had thought of following you.”

Peter:  “Not at all, but he may pull you a bit, so keep away from the field; the fence isn’t made that he can’t jump; and as for water, he’s a swallow!  I wish I could say the same of mine!  We’ve got a brook round about here with rotten banks, it will catch the best!  But, if we are near each other, you must come alongside and go first and mine will very likely follow you.  I don’t want to spend the night in that beastly brook.”

It was a good scenting day and we did not take long to find.  I stuck to Peter Flower while the Bicester hounds raced across the heavy grass towards a hairy-looking ugly double.  In spite of the ironmonger’s shop in Havoc’s mouth, I had not the faintest control over him, so I said to Peter: 

“You know, Mr. Flower, I can’t stop your horse!”

He looked at me with a charming smile and said: 

“But why should you?  Hounds are running!”

Margot:  “But I can’t turn him!”

Peter:  “It doesn’t matter!  They are running straight.  Hullo! 
Lookout!  Look out for Hydy!”

We were going great guns.  I saw a man in front of me slowing up to the double, so shouted at him: 

“Get out of my way!  Get out of my way!”

I was certain that at the pace he was going he would take a heavy fall and I should be on the top of him.  While in the act of turning round to see who it was that was shouting, his willing horse paused and I shot past him, taking away his spur in my habit skirt.  I heard a volley of oaths as I jumped into the jungle.  Havoc, however, did not like the brambles and, steadying himself as he landed, arched with the activity of a cat over a high rail on the other side of the double; I turned round and saw Peter’s horse close behind me hit the rail and peck heavily upon landing, at which Peter gave him one down the shoulder and looked furious.

I had no illusions!  I was on a horse that nothing could stop!  Seeing a line of willows in front of me, I shouted to Peter to come along, as I thought if the brook was ahead of us I could not possibly keep close to him, going at that pace.  To my surprise and delight, as we approached the willows Peter passed me and the water widened out in front of us; I saw by his set face that it was neck or nothing with him.  Havoc was going well within himself, but his stable-companion was precipitate and flurried; and before I knew what