tions, I doubt whether Miss Clover will be quite as easily convinced." "What a Job's comforter you are, Skeffy! It's enough to make one mad to see you sitting there wagging your head, and making everything out as bad as possible. Do try to make some reasonable suggestion, or let's talk of something else if you have nothing pleasant to say.

"Indeed, I have heard that women cool down sometimes wonderfully after they have been put out. Perhaps something may happen to make Miss Clover think rather better of you than she probably does at present. In any case the best thing you can do is to let things slide for a day or two. If you don't show in society for a bit, you may get the credit of being a little ashamed of yourself; and if you are not seen with Mrs Fortescue, you can't be supposed to be much devoted to her."

"Well, I hope you may be right. It won't be very difficult, under the circumstances, to keep myself pretty quiet. I don't feel as if I had the heart to speak to anybody."

"Don't be so down-hearted, man. Things will come all right, never fear. I want to know whether you will ride my grey horse in a small regimental paper-chase this afternoon. Mat. Langham and another of the Australian trainers will cut in with us and bring a couple of smartish nags. I want to see how my horses go in goodish company, and if you'll ride the grey I'll ride the brown. A gallop will do you good. There will be only our own fellows, and no outsiders but Langham and his friend."

Perhaps some of my readers may not know what a paper-chase, as managed in India, is. It is not every cantonment in our Eastern

VOL. CXLIX.-NO. DCCCCVII.

empire which rejoices in the possession of even a "bobbery" pack of hounds with which to hunt the wily jackal, and some form of chase has to be organised which may give the possibility of a gallop across country, and furnish some outlet, however small, to the equestrian and sporting instincts of English men and women. This is generally done by a paper-trail being laid from a place of meeting, over a sufficiently broken country, till it finds an end at some hospitable tent or bungalow, where the field, who have followed it at a very mild pace, are comforted after their exertions by a morning chota hazri or an afternoon tea.

But this form of paper-chase is a social function, adapted to the capabilities of each hack and pony, which daily carries its male or female owner to "eat the air" constitutionally, and lacks sufficient excitement to commend itself altogether to people who, like my brother officers of the gallant-th, own really good horses, and like to give them a chance of showing what they can do. These bolder spirits arrange, for their private diversion, paperchases with the rôle of the paper left out, in which the affair resolves itself into a race over a flagged-out jumping course, steeplechase in everything but the name.

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nothing to be done but the most ordinary routine regimental duty. Even the most exigeant commanding officers respect human weakness sufficiently to order no unnecessary work for the day after a regimental ball. I believe that there was generally a great exposition of sleep in most of the bungalows in our lines. I must confess that I, for one, had an extra siesta, after I had managed to get into that philosophical frame of mind when one's troubles are regarded as things past and irrevocable, and there is a faint dawning of hope on the mental horizon.

Five o'clock in the afternoon brought Skeffy with the nags. The paper-chase had been timed for 5.30, so that we might ride in the cool of the departing day, and we had between two and three miles to cover before getting to the rendezvous. I had not before seen the grey horse that I was to ride, as he was a new purchase of Skeffy's. He was very takinglooking, nearly sixteen hands high, with all the best blood of Australia coursing in his veins. His sire, old Snowdrop, had won the Melbourne Cup, and his dam's pedigree was nearly equally pure; at least so said the dealer from whom he had been bought, and his appearance bore out the tale of his high descent. He seemed a little wanting in condition, however; but this was hardly to be wondered at, as he had not been landed more than a couple of months. As I got on his back, it could not be doubted that his manners were perfect, as he shook his game lean head, and bent his graceful neck at the first touch of the rein, without, at the same time, giving that slight premonitory arch of the back, which is the habit of so many Walers when first mounted,

and which too often initiates a buck or two, playful perhaps, but sufficiently discomposing and disagreeable even to a practised horseman.

Quietly we made our way through the regimental horse lines, where the men were just turning out for evening stables, and then got on the long stretch of sandy waste which lay between us and the great tank, round the edge of which the paper-chase course had been laid out. What a glorious evening it was! and as we cantered along, how our spirits rose, as they never fail to rise when a man is on a well-bred horse, and he thrills with all the pride and joy of controlling the noblest and kindest of animals. The declining sun threw a golden glow over the plain; while the purple shade cast by a solitary mass of grey rocks, and the dark green of one or two small mango topes, stood out in picturesque contrast. As we passed over a crest of rising ground we saw the placid sheet of the tank spread before before us, edged with feathery palms and emerald-green paddy-fields on the further side; while a broad belt of less vivid green on the nearer bank showed where the waters had ebbed during the hot weather and left some sparse vegetation on the damp soil. Some made-up fences showed black against this green belt, each marked with two little red flags; and in the distance, near a native village, we could distinguish a small group of horsemen, evidently waiting for the fun to begin.

We bustled along, joining company en route with one or two other laggards, and made our way to the village, from a spot near which we knew that the start was to be made.

The meet was not as bright or dandy-looking as the collection at

a cover-side at home; but if rather seedy shooting-jackets and pot-hats took the place of pink coats and shiny castors, no one could deny that the horsemen were a very sporting and workman-like looking lot, and that their steeds were as much like business as themselves.

I have already told something about my mount. Skeffy was riding a brown, about 15.2, whose rather plain head and substantial general appearance did not show quite so much quality as Snowdrop's offspring, but the great muscular quarters promised unusual jumping power. It was full of condition, and even if it would probably fail in speed for a short spurt, it looked like staying for a week at its own pace, if necessary. Maberly, one of our majors, whose reputation as an artist in the pigskin was as widely spread as the quarters of British cavalry, or indeed of the British army at home and abroad, was riding an extraordinarily clever pony, which could be trusted to get quickly over any obstacle however serious, and, under his light weight, would not be left very far behind in a struggle across country in any company_however good.

Mat. Langham was on a wellknown old steeplechaser, which, if it had not won the most distinguished laurels on the Indian turf, had paid his expenses well by picking up many minor stakes, and was generally supposed to be a very reliable trial horse for his master's stable.

But the horse that we all took most interest in was a raggedlooking chestnut, whose mysterious character had been much discussed in sporting circles at Bunkumpore, and which had never appeared in public on a race-course. It had been in Langham's stable for some months, but was sup

posed to be a little uncertain in its temper, and indeed Langham had been sufficiently communicative to say that he wanted to see whether it would try in company, and that he was going to let it go round our paper-chase course with us for that end.

Of course we knew well enough that though the chestnut might gallop with us, we were not likely to get much inkling of its real powers, and that, whether it did its best or took things very easy, we should not be much the wiser, Still we hoped to pick up some small item of information about it, which might be of use on a future day when it appeared on

a race-course.

Its rider was a typical Australian jockey, long, thin, with sloping shoulders and sallow beardless face. His head crowned with a battered wideawake, his body clad in a well-worn tweed jacket of which he had outgrown the sleeves, and his legs in a pair of equally parsimonious-looking cord trousers, bound with a strap under each knee.

But this queer

figure had won his spurs as a horseman over the fearful steeplechase courses of Australia, and had been brought to India especially to ride Langham's dark horse. There was no mistaking the calm determined look on his shrewd face, and the perfect understanding which he had at once established with his mount.

Two or three brother officers, on animals more or less estimable, completed the assemblage, while the spectators were confined to two sporting non-commissioned officers of the th, who had ridden out to see the paper-chase on their tats, and a small group of the inhabitants of the village, who were squatted near their dwellings, looking on and prob

ably wondering at the eccentricities of the Sahibs.

Maberly, who generally took the lead in all sporting arrangements, after giving a look round to see if any one else was coming, reminded us that we were burning daylight, and that we should ride in the dark if we did not start soon.

We gave a final look to our bridles and girths, and formed up more or less in line. Maberly gave the word "Go!" and off we started. No one put on much pace at first, but we cantered easily up to the first fence, which we knew was an in-and-out, across a rather deep-cut road leading to the village. One great comfort we enjoyed, plenty of room to ride as we liked. With such a small party there was no hustling, and each could choose his own place. I pulled the grey together, and found, as we negotiated the road, that he was what an Irishman would call "an intricate lepped one," never putting a foot wrong. All got over successfully but one of my brother officers, whose horse had managed to put his foot in a rut and came down. No harm was done, however, and a glance behind showed him struggling again into his saddle. We were now on ground which was the best of going, and we could sit down and ride with confidence. A built-up clay wall, between four and five feet high, showed itself in our front, looming very big, as the setting sun was behind it. We all raced at it, and I felt the grey bound over it like a deer, lighting with a soft thud on the further side. The other horses did the same, with the exception of Maberly's pony, which seemed nearly to stop when it arrived at the obstacle, and then threw itself over with short bound almost like a buck. On we went and still on.

Nearly every fence was a narrow bank or wall, some with ditches, some without, and as both take off and landing were always sound and trustworthy, there was nothing to think of but to sit down and do our best. The grey had undoubtedly a turn of speed, and began to draw away from the regimental horses, but I could not manage to shake off the ragged chestnut. As we left every fence behind, there it was still lying level, and apparently lollopping along in the easiest and most collected manner. "I must try to find out what you are worth, my friend," I thought, and a naughty spirit of emulation began to rise within me.

We had still about a

mile and a half to travel, and it would go hard if I did not manage to cut him down soon if it was to be done at all. I caught hold of my horse and set him going his fastest. We positively seemed to be flying through the air, and each jump as it came was taken in one stride, apparently almost without an extra effort. To no purpose. The chestnut still kept level, though I think it also was about doing its best. We were coming to the water-jump. Twelve feet of open water with a small bushed-up fence on the taking off side. Down we came at it together, stride for stride. The grey rose, and I saw the blue gleam flit below us as we swooped across. We seemed to land all right, when something failed. The earth rose up to meet me, and I felt a numbing shock. When I re

gained consciousness, I found myself lying on the ground with Skeffington supporting my head, while Maberly was wiping my face with a handkerchief wetted with the rather muddy fluid from the waterjump. Langham was holding the grey, which had a head and chest

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must have been knocked out of time for a minute or two, as the paper - chase had evidently been stopped, and everybody wore an air of concern. I felt very sick and faint as I tried to get up. "Take it easy, old man,' said Skeffy, "you've had rather crumpler, and we've sent for the mess tonga to take you home. The grey was a bit done when he came to the water, and slipped upon landing. Just take a mouthful of this," and a cup was put to my lips. It was weak whisky-andwater, and the draught revived me a great deal, only to impress upon me that I was remarkably stiff and sore all over. I tried to pick up my hat, which was lying by my side, and found my left arm helpless. Everybody was very sympathetic, my arm was put into an improvised sling, and I was helped into the tonga, which had carried some drinks to the place where the paper-chase was to have finished, and which had now been brought up to the scene of my accident. A tonga is a vehicle more practical than comfortable at the best of times, and my drive home was very far from pleasant, bumping in my disabled state over a very rough track, in which every separate rut and hole seemed to assert itself in a most aggressive

manner.

Our excellent surgeon was already at my bungalow when we arrived. "Eh, Wilmot, man! I thought I would have you in my hands sooner or later. You laddies are just terribly reckless. Come away in here and lie down on the sofa till I have a look at you."

Skeffy's friendly support aided my still very shaky footsteps, and I was quickly taken out of my

"Well, my man, you've got off very easy this time," he said at length. "You've broken nothing at all, but your shoulder is dislocated. I'll put that all right in a minute. Make your mind easy. I'll not hurt you much."

As I knew this was a consolatory form of speech which an operator always employs when he is about to put you to the acutest agony, I did not feel altogether happy; and when MacTavish took his coat off and then removed one of his very useful boots, revealing a massive foot clad in a stout grey knitted stocking, my spirit rather sank within me at these unusual and rather ominous preparations.

He sat down opposite me, and, putting his stockinged foot into the armpit of the injured arm, he took hold of my hand, and with the leverage of his leg stretched my arm to the fullest extent, and, giving it a slight turn, I felt the displaced joint slip into its socket.

The operation was in itself not particularly pleasant, but I really think the worst of it was a pang in my hand from MacTavish's muscular and determined grip.

"Confound it, doctor!" I said, "you've driven something into my hand."

He looked to see what he had done. "Eh, laddie, laddie! if ye will deck yourself with bonny things like this, you'll find they'll bring trouble sometimes," and he pulled off my ruby ring, of which the stones had been jammed by his grasp into the next finger. Ramasawmy, who had been holding the lamp during the operation, poked his head forward, and said, "That what I done tell master. That ring always bringing bad luck."