vague," I observed. "You might almost as well say
'Southern Asia.' Have you any idea in what part of it?"

"Not the least. I have told you all I know. I should be glad to know more;
but for the present it is quite enough for my purpose. I intend to call
upon Mr. Fortescue."

It is hardly necessary to say that I had no such intention, for having
neither a "position in the county," as the phrase goes, a house of my own,
nor any official connection with the hunt, a call from me would probably
have been regarded, and rightly so, as a piece of presumption. As it
happened, however, I not only called on Mr. Fortescue before the
secretary, but became his guest, greatly to my surprise, and, I have no
doubt, to his, although he was the indirect cause; for had he not bought
Ranger, it is very unlikely that I should have become an inmate of his
house.

It came about in this way. Bertie was so pleased with the result of his
first speculation in horseflesh (though so far as he was concerned it was
a pure fluke) that he must needs make another. If he had picked up a
second cab-horse at thirty or forty pounds he could not have gone far
wrong; but instead of that he must needs go to Tattersall's and give
nearly fifty for a blood mare rejoicing in the name of "Tickle-me-Quick,"
described as being "the property of a gentleman," and said to have won
several country steeple-chases.

The moment I set eyes on the beast I saw she was a screw, "and vicious at
that," as an American would have said. But as she had been bought (without
warranty) and paid for, I had to make the best of her. Within an hour of
the mare's arrival at Red Chimneys, I was on her back, trying her paces.
She galloped well and jumped splendidly, but I feared from her ways that
she would be hot with hounds, and perhaps, kick in a crowd, one of the
worst faults that a hunter can possess.

On the next non-hunting day I took Tickle-me-Quick out for a long ride in
the country, to see how she shaped as a hack. I little thought, as we set
off, that it would prove to be her last journey, and one of the most
memorable events of my life.

For a while all went well. The mare wanted riding, yet she behaved no
worse than I expected, although from the way she laid her ears back and
the angry tossing of her head when I made her feel the bit, she was
clearly not in the best of tempers. But I kept her going; and an hour
after leaving Red Chimneys we turned into a narrow deep lane bet