"That's funny/' he remarked. "They told me at
the 'Bull5 last night that he's a great one for terriers
and digging out foxes. A lot of the subscribers com-
plain about it. They say he's never happy unless he's
got his head down a rabbit-hole!"
With a knowing air I told him that Mr. Gaffikin
had said it was a drag.
"By Jingo! If it was a drag they must have gone
like blazes!" I asserted that they did go like blazes.
"You must have jumped some big places."
There was a note of surprise in his voice which made
me feel that I had been doing more than was expected
of me. Could it be possible, I wondered, that Dixon
was actually proud of his pupil? And, indeed, there
must have been a note of jubilation in his voice when,
as he bent down to brush the mud off Harkaway's
hocks, he asked: "Did Mr. Gaffikin see him jump-
"Yes. I foil------1 was close to him all the way."
Perhaps it was just as well that Harkaway, munch-
ing away at his feed, was unable to lift his long-
suffering face and say what he thought about my
horsemanship! Looking back at that half-lit stable
from the detachment of to-day, I can almost believe
that, after I had gone indoors to my boiled eggs,
Dixon and the old horse had a confidential chat, like
the old friends that they were. Anyhow, the horse
and his groom understood one another quite as well
as the groom understood his master.
Aunt Evelya did her best to come up to the scratch
while I was talking big at the dinner-table. But the
wonderful performances of Harkaway and myself