leave that to her father, and again he smiled at her. There
were the first hounds streaming out--one on the other--music and feather!
Why didn't Dad go? They would all be round this way in a minute!

Then the black mare slid past her, and, with a bound, her horse followed.
The young man on the chestnut was away on the left. Only the hunts-man
and one whip--beside their three selves! Glorious! The brown horse went
too fast at that first fence and Winton called back: "Steady, Gyp!
Steady him!" But she couldn't; and it didn't matter. Grass, three
fields of grass! Oh, what a lovely fox--going so straight! And each
time the brown horse rose, she thought: "Perfect! I CAN ride! Oh, I am
happy!" And she hoped her father and the young man were looking. There
was no feeling in the world like this, with a leader like Dad, hounds
moving free, good going, and the field distanced. Better than dancing;
better--yes, better than listening to music. If one could spend one's
life galloping, sailing over fences; if it would never stop! The new
horse was a darling, though he DID pull.

She crossed the next fence level with the young man, whose low chestnut
mare moved with a stealthy action. His hat was crammed down now, and his
face very determined, but his lips still had something of that smile.
Gyp thought: "He's got a good seat--very strong, only he looks like
'thrusting.' Nobody rides like Dad--so beautifully quiet!" Indeed,
Winton's seat on a horse was perfection, all done with such a minimum
expenditure. The hounds swung round in a curve. Now she was with them,
really with them! What a pace--cracking! No fox could stand this long!

And suddenly she caught sight of him, barely a field ahead, scurrying
desperately, brush down; and the thought flashed through her: 'Oh! don't
let's catch you. Go on, fox; go on! Get away!' Were they really all
after that little hunted red thing--a hundred great creatures, horses and
men and women and dogs, and only that one little fox! But then came
another fence, and quickly another, and she lost feelings of shame and
pity in the exultation of flying over them. A minute later the fox went
to earth within a few hundred yards of the leading hound, and she was
glad. She had been in at deaths before--horrid! But it had been a
lovely gallop. And, breathless, smiling rapturously, she wondered whether
she could mop her face before the field came up, without that young man
noticing.