Skewbald made the pace for his companion, and Tom put on a last spurt, trying to get even with his quarry. Skewbald, as he approached the barrier, glanced back at his pursuer, then, acting under an overmastering impulse to escape, went at the gate, cleared it, and was at once lost to sight in a forest enclosure. Tom went right on, charging full tilt into the other pony, which he pinned against the gate, nearly knocking the wind out of both animals. Before the yearling had recovered himself Tom had him haltered, and a safe prisoner.
In the New Year Skewbald again used his jumping powers, and this time saved his life thereby. He was feeding with two other young ponies in a rough part of the forest, when a stray hound, a deserter from the kennels, alarmed them. The intruder, perhaps wishing for company, ran towards them, but the ponies, not relishing his advances, set off at a trot. The hound followed, and the trot became a gallop. It chanced that an artillery company, training in the forest, had dug some pits which had not yet been filled in. The ponies are, as a rule, quite able to take care of themselves. They have a good sense of geography and know the dangerous spots, as bogs and pits, but, being driven away from the training-ground, they were unaware of the existence of the excavations.
As Skewbald fled, through gorse, tall heather, and bog myrtle, the pony in front of him disappeared with a cry, and, the next moment, he found himself at the edge of a deep and wide pit, with no time to turn. But the accident to his companion had given him that fraction of a second of preparation which was enough for his nerve and muscle. He made a spasmodic leap, and just managed to land his heels on the far side. The third also leapt, but fell short.
When the hound, hearing the ponies’ moans, looked down, he fled with a yelp of dismay. Later, the huntsmen, searching for the truant, found the two ponies, one dead and the other grievously hurt.
Longdown Moor.
XII.—CHANGING THE BRAND
In the rougher corners of the forest are the tents of the gipsies, kept by authority as far as possible from the more frequented beauty spots. One comes across these encampments in little groups of two or three wigwams, each being built on the same principle—a framework of rods bent semi-circularly, over which are thrown blankets and any odd lengths of stuff that can be so used. At one end is the “baulk”—a square tapering tower of blanket or canvas open to the sky. This is the chimney, the fire being built on the ground inside, so that the inmates can prepare their food in the dry, and enjoy the heat radiating into the tent proper. Generally there is another tent beyond the fire, so that the baulk is in the middle of the erection.