"Are you well mounted this year?" Maxwell asked of George Vavasor.
"No, indeed; I never was what I call well mounted yet. I generally have one horse and three or four cripples. That brown horse behind there is pretty good, I believe."
"I see your man has got the old chestnut mare with him."
"She's one of the cripples,—not but what she's as sound as a bell, and as good a hunter as ever I wish to ride; but she makes a little noise when she's going."
"So that you can hear her three fields off," said Grindley.
"Five if the fields are small enough and your ears are sharp enough," said Vavasor. "All the same I wouldn't change her for the best horse I ever saw under you."
"Had you there, Grindems," said Maxwell.
"No, he didn't," said Grindley. "He didn't have me at all."
"Your horses, Grindley, are always up to all the work they have to do," said George; "and I don't know what any man wants more than that."
"Had you again, Grindems," said Maxwell.