On this occasion Silverbridge stayed only a few days at Harrington, having promised Tregear to entertain him at The Baldfaced Stag. It was here that his horses were standing, and he now intended, by limiting himself to one horse a day, to mount his friend for a couple of weeks. It was settled at last that Tregear should ride his friend's horse one day, hire the next, and so on.
'I wonder what you'll think of Mrs Spooner?' he said.
'Why should I think anything of her?'
'Because I doubt whether you ever saw such a woman before. She does nothing but hunt.'
'Then I certainly shan't want to see her again.'
'And she talks as never I heard a lady talk before.'
'Then I don't care if I don't see her at all.'
'But she is the most plucky and most good-natured human being I ever saw in my life. After all, hunting is good fun.'
'Very; if you don't do it so often as to be sick of it.'
'Long as I have known you I don't think I ever saw you ride yet.'
'We used to have hunting down in Cornwall, and thought we did it pretty well. And I have ridden in South Wales, which I can assure you isn't an easy thing to do. But you mustn't expect much from me.'
They were both out the Monday and Tuesday in that week, and then again on the Thursday without anything special in the way of sport. Lord Chiltern, who had found Silverbridge to be a young man after his own heart, was anxious that he should come back to Harrington and bring Tregear with him. But to this Tregear would not assent, alleging that he should feel himself to be a burden both to Lord and Lady Chiltern. On the Friday Tregear did not go out, saying that he would avoid the expense, and on that day there was a good run. 'It is always the way,' said Silverbridge. 'If you miss a day, it is sure to be the best thing of the season. An hour and a quarter with hardly anything you could call a check! It is the only very good thing I have seen since I have been here. Mrs Spooner was with them all through.'
'And I suppose you were with Mrs Spooner.'
'I wasn't far off. I wish you had been there.'
On the next day the meet was at the kennels, close to Harrington, and Silverbridge drove his friend over in a gig. The Master and Lady Chiltern, Spooner and Mrs Spooner, Maule, and Mrs Maule, Phineas Finn, and host of others condoled with the unfortunate young man because he had not seen the good thing yesterday. 'We've had it a little faster once or twice,' said Mrs Spooner with deliberation, 'but never for so long. Then it was straight as a line, and a real open kill. No changing you know. We did go through the Daisies, but I'll swear to its being the same fox.'
All of which set Tregear wondering. How could she swear to her fox? And if they had changed, what did it matter? And if it had been a little crooked, why would it have been less enjoyable? And was she really so exact a judge of pace as she pretended to be?
'I'm afraid we shan't have anything like that today,' she continued. 'The wind's in the west, and I never do like a westerly wind.'
'A little to the north,' said her husband, looking round the compass.
'My dear,' said the lady, 'you never know where the wind comes from. Now don't you think of taking off your comforter, I won't have it.'
Tregear was riding his friend's favourite hunter, a thoroughbred bay horse, very much more than up to his rider's weight, and supposed to be peculiarly good at timber, water, or any well-defined kind of fence, however high or broad. They found a covert near the kennels, and killed their fox after a burst of a few minutes. They found again, and having lost their fox, all declared that there was not a yard of scent. 'I always know what a west wind means,' said Mrs Spooner.
Then they lunched, and smoked, and trotted about with an apparent acknowledgement that there wasn't much to be done. It was not right that they should expect much after so good a thing as they had had yesterday. At half-past two Mr Spooner had been sent home by his Providence, and Mrs Spooner was calculating that she would be able to ride her horse again on the Tuesday. When on a sudden the hounds were on a fox. It turned out afterwards that Dick Rabbit had absolutely ridden him up among the stubble, and that the hounds had nearly killed him before he had gone a yard. But the astute animal making the best use of his legs till he could get the advantage of the first ditch, ran, and crept, and jumped absolutely through the pack. Then there was shouting, and yelling, and riding. The men who were idly smoking threw away their cigars.
Those who were loitering at a distance lost their chance. But the real sportsmen, always on the alert, always thinking of the business in hand, always mindful that there may be at any moment a fox just before the hounds, had a glorious opportunity of getting 'well away'. Among these no one was more intent, or, when the moment came, 'better away' than Mrs Spooner.
Silverbridge had been talking to her and had the full advantage of her care. Tregear was riding behind with Lord Chiltern, who had been pressing him to come with his friend to Harrington. As soon as the shouting was heard Chiltern was off like a rocket. It was not only that he was anxious to 'get well away', but that a sense of duty compelled him to see how the thing was being done. Old Fowler was certainly a little slow, and Dick Rabbit, with the true bloody-minded instinct of a whip, was a little apt to bustle a fox back into the covert. And then, when a run commences with a fast rush, riders are apt to over-ride the hounds, and then the hounds will over-run the fox. All of which has to be seen to by a Master who knows his business.
Tregear followed, and being mounted on a fast horse was soon as forward as a judicious rider would desire. 'Now, Runks, don't you press on and spoil it all,' said Mrs Spooner to the hard-riding objectionable son of old Runks the vet from Rufford. But young Runks did press on till the Master spoke a word. The word shall not be repeated, but it was efficacious.
