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 between high banks, which led to Kingscote entering the road on the west side of the park at right angles, and very near Mr. Fortescue’s lodge-gates.

In the field to my right several colts were grazing, and when they caught sight of Tickle-me-Quick trotting up the lane they took it into their heads to have an impromptu race among themselves.  Neighing loudly, they set off at full gallop.  Without asking my leave, Tickle-me-Quick followed suit.  I tried to stop her.  I might as well have tried to stop an avalanche.  So, making a virtue of necessity, I let her go, thinking that before she reached the top of the lane she would have had quite enough, and I should be able to pull her up without difficulty.

The colts are soon left behind; but we can hear them galloping behind us, and on goes the mare like the wind.  I can now see the end of the lane, and as the great park wall, twelve feet high, looms in sight, the horrible thought flashes on my mind that unless I pull her up we shall both be dashed to pieces; for to turn a sharp corner at the speed we are going is quite out of the question.