re seemed
to change. He became a demon-exterminator of cats. Led on by his
yelping little friend, he chased them fiercely to their last retreats,
and, if he caught them, masticated them without mercy. Once too, on
a morning that had been appointed for a big covert-shoot, I noticed
this strangely assorted pair come into the breakfast-room panting and
dirty. They were not usually afoot before breakfast. What could their
condition mean? A flustered keeper arrived shortly afterwards and
explained everything. "Them two dogs o' yourn, Sir," he said, "the big
'un and the little 'un, 'ave run all the coverts through. There's not
a pheasant left in 'em. They're sailin' all over the country."

[Illustration]

The truth was that _Flick_ had organised the expedition with
extraordinary secrecy and cunning. He had persuaded _Rufus_ to join
him, and the result was that we shot forty pheasants instead of the
three hundred on which we had counted.

Now, my dear PLAU, I merely record this little story, and leave you
to apply it. But I may remind you of incidents that touch you more
nearly. Do you remember GORTON? Many years ago GORTON went to Oxford
with a brilliant reputation. Every triumph that the University could
confer was held to be within his grasp. His contemporaries looked
upon him as a marvellous being, who was destined to rise to the top
of whatever tree he felt disposed to climb. He was really a delightful
fellow, fresh, smiling, expansive, amusing, and his friends all
worshipped him. Of course he went in for the Hertford. His success was
certain; it was merely a question as to who should be second. On the
evening before the examination began, there was a strange commotion in
GORTON's College. GORTON, who was supposed to have been reading hard,
was found at about twelve o'clock in the quad in his nightgown. He was
on all fours, and was engaged in eating grass and roaring out ribald
snatches of Latin songs in a shrill voice. When the porter approached
him he said he was a hippogriff, and that in another ten minutes he
intended to fly to Iffley and back in half a second. He was carried
up to bed raving horribly. On the following day he grew calmer, and
in a week he was himself again. But by that time, of course, the
examination was over, and DUBBIN was soon afterwards announced as the
successful competitor.

Judging the past by what I know now, I cannot doubt that the madness
of GORTON was what patrons of the prize-ring ca