s when, at the end of a heavy burst
over a ploughed field, he came to what may be styled his first leap.
His hat by that time had threatened so frequently to come off, that he
had thrust it desperately down on his head, until the rim behind rested
on the back of his neck. Trotting through a gap in a hedge into a road,
young Stoutheart sought about for a place by which they might clamber up
into the next field without going round by the gate towards which most
of the field had headed.

"D'you think you could manage that?" said Tom, pointing with the handle
of his whip to a gap in the hedge, where there was a mound and a hollow
with a _chevaux-de-frise_ of cut stumps around, and a mass of thorn
branches sufficiently thin to be broken through.

Queeker never looked at it, but gazing steadily in the face of his
friend, said--

"I'll follow!"

Stoutheart at once pushed his horse at it. It could not be called a
leap. It was a mere scramble, done at the slowest possible pace.
Wildfire gave one or two little bounds, and appeared to walk up
perpendicularly on his hind legs, while Tom looked as if he were
plastered against him with some adhesive substance; then he appeared to
drop perpendicularly down on the other side, his tail alone being
visible.

"All right, come along," shouted Tom.

Queeker rode up to the gap, shut his eyes, gave a chirp, and committed
himself to fate and Slapover. He felt a succession of shocks, and then
a pause. Venturing to open his eyes, he saw young Stoutheart, still on
the other side of the fence, laughing at him.

"You shouldn't hold so tight by the reins," he cried; "you've pulled him
back into the road. Try it again."

Queeker once more shut his eyes, slacked the reins, and, seizing the
pommel of the saddle, gave another chirp. Again there was a shock,
which appeared to drive his body up against his head; another which
seemed to have all but snapped him off at the waist; then a sensation
about his hat, as if a few wild-cats were attempting to tear it off,
followed by a drop and a plunge, which threw him forward on his
charger's neck.

"Dear me!" he exclaimed, panting, as he opened his eyes, "I had no idea
the shock would have been so--so--shocking!"

Tom laughed; cried "Well done!" and galloped on. Queeker followed, his
cheeks on fire, and perspiration streaming from his brow.

"Now, then, here is an easy fence," cried Stoutheart, looking back and
pointing to a part of the fi