With reference to hunting, of which old English pastime Mr. Dereker was an enthusiastic supporter, he explained that owing to the estates and farms being substantially fenced, horses that could negotiate the high and stiff rails were a necessity. The breeding of hunters and steeplechasers had been therefore encouraged from the earliest days of the colony. Hacks and harness horses for similar reasons. “So that,” said Mr. Dereker, allowing his whip to rest lightly on his off side wheeler, “I don’t think you will find a better bred, better matched team in an English county than this, or four better hackneys than those which are now overtaking us.”
Certainly, Mr. Blount thought, there was no reason to dispute the assertion. The team they sat behind, two bays and two greys, driven chequer fashion, a grey in the near lead, and another in the off wheel, would be hard to beat. They were, perhaps, hardly so massive as the English coach horse, but while less powerful and upstanding, they showed more blood and were generally handsomer. This might account for the ease with which they accomplished the twenty mile stage in little over the two hours, and the unchanged form which they carried to the journey’s end, with a fairly heavy load behind them. As for the hackney division, when Miss Dalton and her companion overtook the coach just before they turned into the drive at Holmby, there was a general expression of admiration from the party, as the beautiful blood mare that she rode reined up, tossing her head impatiently, while her large, mild eye, full nostril, and high croup bore testimony to the Arab ancestry.
“Yes! Zuleika is a beauty!” said Miss Laura, looking with pardonable pride at the satin coat and delicate limbs of the high-caste animal, “and though she makes believe to be impatient, is as gentle as a lamb. She is my personal property—we all have our own horses—but I lent her to Grace Dalton to-day, for her palfrey, as the old romancers say, met with an accident. She is a fast walker, and will show off going up the drive.”
“You appear to have wonderfully good horses of all classes in Tasmania,” said the guest; “indeed in Australia generally, judging by those I saw in Victoria and New South Wales—but here the hackneys and harness horses seem to have more ‘class.’”
“For many years,” said Mr. Dereker, “we have had the advantage of the best English blood—with occasional high-caste Arab importations from India; so there is no reason why, with a favourable climate, and wide range of pasture, we should not have speed, stoutness and pace equal to anything in the world. But here we are at Walmer, so we must defer the treatment of this fascinating subject till after lunch, when the ladies have retired.” As he spoke, he turned into the by road which led to the lodge gate, which, opened by an aged retainer, admitted them to a well-kept avenue shaded by oaks and elms, and lined by hawthorn hedges. The house was a large and handsome country home, differing in style and architecture from Hollywood Hall, but possessing all the requisite qualifications for hospitality needed by a manor house. As they drove up to the entrance steps, a fine boy of fourteen ran out and assisted Miss Claremont to descend, after which he nimbly climbed up beside the driver, saying, “Oh! Mr. Dereker, isn’t it a jolly team?—won’t you let me drive round to the stables; you know I can drive?”
“You drive very well, for your time of life, Reggie, but these horses pull, so be careful.”
“I can hold them,” said the confident youngster, who, indeed, took over the reins in a very workman-like manner, “besides they’ve done twenty miles with a load behind them. Aren’t you going to stay all night?”
“Might have thought of it, Reggie, but the ladies are not prepared; we must get your sister to come instead—you too, if your father will let you. I suppose Joe and Bertie are at home? How does Tasmania strike them after the old country?”
“Oh! they’re jolly glad to get back, though they’ve had a ripping time of it. Father says they must set to work now for the next few years. Who’s the man that was next to you? Englishman, I expect!”
“Yes! Mr. Blount, only a year out. Seems a good sort, partner with Tregonwell in that new silver mine, the Eldorado.”