“At the first I thought,” said Lady Violet, “that they were attired in painted fleshings, but upon using my glass, it was clear that I was mistaken. Otherwise, I should have brought them away at the first moment.”
“I see,” said Mr. Carteret. “It is most unfortunate!”
“It is, indeed!” said Lady Violet; “but the matter will not be allowed to drop. They were brought to the meet by that young profligate, Lord Frederic Westcote.”
“You amaze me,” said Mr. Carteret. He bowed, started his horse, and jogged along for five minutes, then he turned to the right upon a crossroad and suddenly found himself with hounds. They were feathering excitedly about the mouth of a tile drain into which the fox had evidently gone. No master, huntsmen or whips were in sight, but sitting wet and mud-daubed upon horses dripping with muddy water were Grady dressed in cowboy costume and three naked Indians. Mr. Carteret glanced about over the country and understood. They had swum the brook at the place where it ran between steep clay banks and the rest of the field had gone around to the bridge. As he looked toward the south, he saw Lord Ploversdale riding furiously toward him followed by Smith, the huntsman. Grady had not recognized Mr. Carteret turned out in pink as he was, and for the moment the latter decided to remain incognito.
Before Lord Ploversdale, Master of Fox-hounds, reached the road, he began waving his whip. He appeared excited. “What do you mean by riding upon my hounds?” he shouted. He said this in several ways with various accompanying phrases, but neither the Indians nor Grady seemed to notice him. It occurred to Mr. Carteret that, although Lord Ploversdale’s power of expression was wonderful for England, it nevertheless fell short of Arizona standards. Then, however, he noticed that Grady was absorbed in adjusting a kodak camera, with which he was evidently about to take a picture of the Indians alone with the hounds. He drew back in order both to avoid being in the field of the picture and to avoid too close proximity with Lord Ploversdale as he came over the fence into the road.
“What do you mean, sir!” shouted the enraged Master of Fox-hounds, as he pulled up his horse.
“A little more in the middle,” replied Grady, still absorbed in taking the picture.
“A little more in the middle”