"Hold hard, young gentlemen, hold hard," roars Tom, as they hang for a moment on the plough, and five or six reeking ponies get unpleasantly near his darlings. "You canna jump Swill; you must go round by t' bridge."
But they pay no heed to either him or paternal warning, and pound away over the plough towards the willows.
"Here, I'm dashed if some on 'em won't get drownded, for they'll have it, as sure as my name's Wilding," he continues.
The two Simms and a few adventurous spirits follow in the wake of the lads, while the rest of the field follow the Master to the bridge. As the hounds plunge in Tom gallops off for the same goal, saying: "This way, young gents, this way." He might as well have spared his breath, for Eton is not going to be beaten by Harrow, nor Winchester by Rugby, nor Clifton by any of them, and the rivals feel the honour of their schools to be at stake. Harold again heads the charge, and the young 'un makes a gallant effort, just getting his fore-legs on the opposite bank. Quick as thought the boy is over his head on terra firma, while the gray falls back into the brook. "Bravo," shout the rest of the field, "bravo!" and, as his horse scrambles out, Harold's heart swells with pride, and he says to his brother: "The dear old school bested them all."
Harrow, Rugby, Winchester, and Clifton, all go at it in a lump, and all four are splashing about together, when little Phillips, a lad of twelve, who has just completed his first half, at Marlborough, comes down, and handling his rat of a pony down the bank, the pair swim across, and out the other side they scramble, the urchin shouting at the top of his voice: "Hooray, Eton first, Marlborough second."
All, happily, manage, contrary to Tom's expectations, to escape being "drownded;" and, wet as they are, ride harder than ever to make up their "leeway."
About a mile farther on the fox is viewed heading straight for Braby Main Earths, where he goes to ground with the pack close at his brush. Then paternal authority asserts itself, and the dripping schoolboys are promptly ordered home. They plead hard to stay, but paterfamilias is firm, and the lads turn to go with a last wistful look at Tom and the hounds.