"Right!" grunted Silver, settling into his saddle. "Now, you old hog, you!"
Brown Lollypop cocked his long ears and watched with pained disapproval the gambols of his elder. Himself incorruptible, he was no doubt well pleased at heart that Banjo's misconduct should throw up in high relief his own immaculate conduct. Lollypop was in fact a bit of a prig. Had he been a boy he would have been head of his school, a Scholar of Balliol, and President of the Union at his University.
The girl followed her leader through the gate, the brown horse stepping gingerly, swinging his tail, and feeling his bit, while Banjo galumphed and grunted to the sound of a squeaking leather.
The meet was at Folkington Green, at the foot of the Downs on the edge of the low country.
Once in the road, Silver and the girl turned their backs on the sea and made through the village.
Just outside it a familiar figure was waiting them on the road, apologetic and pleading.
"I knew he would," said Boy. "He started with father and got turned back. Now he's waiting for us. Go back, you bad dog!"
"Poor boy!—he wants a bit of a hunt, too," said the young man.
"I'll hunt him!" cried the girl remorselessly, and proceeded to do so with vigour.
It was some time before the dog was routed and they were free to pursue their way.