"Michael! Did they tell you we have a fox for you in the hill north?"
"I wasn't speaking to any of them," replied Michael coldly.
"Well, your hounds will be speaking to him soon! Here, hurry boys, pull out the horses!"
His eye fell on the chestnut, upon whose reeking back Eugene was cramming a saddle, while the boy who had met us at the entrance gate was proffering to it a tin basin full of oats.
"What are you doing with the young horse?" he roared.
"I thought Master Eddy would ride him, sir," replied Eugene.
"Well, he will not," said Mr. Flynn, conclusively; "the horse has enough work done, and let you walk him about easy till he's cool. You can folly the hunt then."
Two more crestfallen countenances than those of the young gentlemen he addressed it has seldom been my lot to see. The saddle was slowly removed. Master Eddy, red up to the roots of his black hair, retired silently with his basin of oats into the stable behind Slipper. Even had I not seen his cuff go to his eyes I should have realised that life would probably never hold for him a bitterer moment.
The hounds were already surging out of the yard with a following wave, composed of every living thing in sight. As I took Lady Jane from the hand of Slipper, Philippa's pony gave a snort. Some touch of Philippa's criminal weakness for boys assailed me.
"That boy can ride the pony if he likes," I said to Slipper.