had happened Peter was in the middle of the brook and I was jumping over his head.  On landing I made a large circle round the field away from hounds, trying to pull up; and when I could turn round I found myself facing the brook again, with Peter dripping on the bank nearest to me.  Havoc pricked his ears, passed him like a flash and jumped the brook again; but the bank on landing was boggy and while we were floundering I got a pull at him by putting the curb-rein under my pommel and, exhausted and distressed, I jumped off.  Peter burst out laughing.

“We seem to be separated for life,” he said.  “Do look at my damned horse!”

I looked down the water and saw the animal standing knee-deep, nibbling grass and mud off the bank with perfect composure.

Margot:  “I really believe Havoc would jump this brook for a third time and then I should be by your side.  What luck that you aren’t soaked to the skin; hadn’t I better look out for the second horsemen?  Hounds by now will be at the sea and I confess I can’t ride your horse:  does he always pull like this?”

Peter:  “Yes, he catches hold a bit, but what do you mean?  You rode him beautifully.  Hullo!  What is that spur doing in your skirt?”

Margot:  “I took it off the man that you call ‘Hydy,’ who was going so sticky at the double when we started.”

Peter:  “Poor old Clarendon!  I advise you to keep his spur, he’ll never guess who took it; and, if I know anything about him, there will be no love lost between you even if you do return it to him!”

I was longing for another horse, as I could not bear the idea of going home.  At that moment a single file of second horse-men came in sight; and Peter’s well-trained servant, on a thoroughbred grey, rode up to us at the conventional trot.  Peter lit a cigar and, pointing to the brook, said to his man: 

“Go off and get a rope and hang that brute!  Or haul him out, will you?  And give me my lunch.”

We were miles away from any human habitation and I felt depressed.

“Perhaps I had better ride home with your man,” said I, looking tentatively at Peter.

“Home!  What for?” said he.

Margot:  “Are you sure Havoc is not tired?”

Peter:  “I wish to God he was!  But I daresay this infernal Bicester grass, which is heavier than anything I saw in Yorkshire, has steadied him a bit; you’ll see he’ll go far better with you this afternoon.  I’m awfully sorry and would put you on my second horse, but it isn’t mine and I’m told it’s got a bit of a temper; if you go through that gate we’ll have our lunch together. ...Have a cigarette?”

I smiled and shook my head; my mouth was as dry as a Japanese toy and I felt shattered with fatigue.  The ground on which I was standing was deep and I was afraid of walking in case I should leave my boots in it, so I tapped the back of Havoc’s fetlocks till I got him stretched and with great skill mounted myself.  This filled Peter with admiration; and, lifting his hat, he said: