TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston

had disappeared and there wasn't a sound to be
heard.

"Well, I suppose we may as well go on." He
laughed as he gave me a leg up. "Fancy you follow-
ing Mr. Macdoggart over the biggest place in the
fence. Good thing Miss Sherston couldn't see you."

The idea of my aunt seemed to amuse him, and he
slapped his knee and chuckled as he led me onward at
a deliberate pace. Secretly mortified by my failure
I did my best to simulate cheerfulness. But I couldn't
forget the other boy and how ridiculous he must have
thought me when he saw me rolling about on the
ground. I felt as if I must be covered with mud.
About half an hour later we found the hunt again,
but I can remember nothing more except that it was
beginning to get dark and the huntsman, a middle-
aged, mulberry-faced man named Jack Pitt, was
blowing his horn as he sat in the middle of his hounds.
The other boy was actually talking to him—a privilege
I couldn't imagine myself promoted to. At that
moment I almost hated him for his cocksuredness.

Then, to my surprise, the Master himself actually

.came up and asked me how far I was from home.

In my embarrassment I could only mutter that I

didn't know, and Dixon interposed with "About

twelve miles, m'lord," in his best manner.

"I hear he's quite a young thruster." ... The great
man glanced at me for a moment with curiosity
before he turned away* Not knowing what he meant
I went red in the face and thought he was making
fun of me.

Now that I have come to the end of my first day's
hunting I am tempted to moralize about it. But I

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