of the gentlemen descried the
fox running down a double furrow in the middle of the field. He had got
into this, and so made his way more smoothly than his four-footed
pursuers could. The dogs were laid on, and away they went
helter-skelter.

At the end of this stiff ground a stiffish leap awaited them; an old
quickset had been cut down, and all the elm-trees that grew in it, and
a new quickset hedge set on a high bank with double ditches.

The huntsman had an Irish horse that laughed at this fence; he jumped
on to the bank, and then jumped off it into the next field.

Richard Bassett's cocktail came up slowly, rose high, and landed his
forefeet in the field, and so scrambled on.

Sir Charles went at it rather rashly; his horse, tried hard by the
fallow, caught his heels against the edge of the bank, and went
headlong into the other ditch, throwing Sir Charles over his head into
the field. Unluckily some of the trees were lying about, and Sir
Charles's head struck one of these in falling; the horse blundered out
again, and galloped after the hounds, but the rider lay there
motionless.

Nobody stopped at first; the pace was too good to inquire; but
presently Richard Bassett, who had greeted the accident with a laugh,
turned round in his saddle, and saw his cousin motionless, and two or
three gentlemen dismounting at the place. These were newcomers. Then he
resigned the hunt, and rode back.

Sir Charles's cap was crushed in, and there was blood on his white
waistcoat; he was very pale, and quite insensible.

The gentlemen raised him, with expressions of alarm and kindly concern,
and inquired of each other what was best to be done.

Richard Bassett saw an opportunity to conciliate opinion, and seized
it. "He must be taken home directly," said he. "We must carry him to
that farmhouse, and get a cart for him."

He helped carry him accordingly. The farmer lent them a cart, with
straw, and they laid the insensible baronet gently on it, Richard
Bassett supporting his head. "Gentlemen," said he, rather pompously,
"at such a moment everything but the tie of kindred is forgotten."
Which resounding sentiment was warmly applauded by the honest squires.

They took him slowly and carefully toward Huntercombe, distant about
two miles from the scene of the accident.

This 18th November Lady Bassett passed much as usual with her on
hunting days. She was quietly patient till the afternoon, and then
restless, and could no