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Now it so happened that the new owner of Cows-
lake Manor provided the liveliest incident that I
remember out of that day, which was "badly served
by scent" as the local scribe reported in the paper. A
fox was found in Pacey's Plantation (it was hinted
that he'd been put there by Mr. Pacey, a hard-riding
farmer who believed in showing the foot people some
fun on an opening day). The majority of the field
hustled round the outside of the covert, but I thought
to be clever and went through by a grassy ride.   A
short distance in front of me galloped Mr. Bellerby;
his hat bounced on his back, suspended by its string,
and he was manifestly travelling quicker than he had
intended. Someone in front pushed through the gate
out of the Plantation, and while we neared it the open
gate was slowly swinging back again.    It was un-
certain which would win, Mr. Bellerby or the gate.
I stole past him on his near side, got there just in the
nick of time, and retarded the gate with my left hand.
Mr. Bellerby bolted through the aperture, narrowly
avoiding the gatepost with his right knee.  It was an
easily managed exploit on my part, since I had
Gockbird  well  under control,  and,  as  usual,   he
understood what we were about every bit as well as
his owner.   Mr. Bellerby continued his involuntary
express journey across a ridge-and-furrow field, bore
down on a weak hedge, swerved, shot half-way
up his marc's neck, and came to a standstill while
Gockbird was taking the fence in his stride.

After Mr. Pacey's fox had got into a drain half a
mile further on, Mr. Bellerby reappeared and
besieged me with his gratitude. He really didn't
know how to thank me enough or how to congratu-
late me in adequate terms on what he persisted in
describing as my "magnificent feat of horsemanship59,,