CHAPTER XIV.

_Mr. Pagebrook Manages to be in at the Death._

Not many days after Robert's uncomfortable dinner at The Oaks, a servant came over with a message from Major Pagebrook, to the effect that a grand fox-chase was arranged for the next morning. Foggy and Dr. Harrison had originated it, but Major Pagebrook's and several other gentlemen's hounds would run, and Ewing invited his cousins, Robert and Billy, to take part in the sport. Accordingly our two young gentlemen ate an early breakfast and rode over to that part of The Oaks plantation known as "Pine quarter," where the first fox-hunt of the season was always begun. They arrived not a moment too soon, and found the hounds just breaking away and the riders galloping after them. The first five miles of country was comparatively open, a fact which gave the fox a good start and promised to make the chase a long and a rapid one.

Robert Pagebrook had never seen a fox-chase, and his only knowledge of the sport was that which he had gleaned from descriptions, but he was on a perfect horse as inexperienced as himself; he was naturally very fearless; he was intensely excited, and it was his habit to do whatever he believed to be the proper thing on any occasion. From books he had got the impression that the proper thing to do in fox-hunting was to ride as hard as he could straight after the hounds, and this he did with very little regard for consequences. He galloped straight through clumps of pine, "as thick," Billy said, "as the hair on Absalom's head," while others rode around them. He plunged through creek "low grounds" without a thought of possible mires or quicksands. He knew that fox-hunters made their horses jump fences, but he knew nothing of their practice in the matter of knocking off top rails first, and accordingly he rode straight at every fence which happened to stand in his way, and forced his horse to take them all at a flying leap.

On and on he went, straight after the hounds, his pulse beating high and his brain whirling with excitement. The more judicious hunters of the party would have been left far behind but for the advantage they possessed in their knowledge of the country and their consequent ability to anticipate the fox's turnings, and to save distance and avoid difficulties by following short cuts. Robert rode right after the hounds always.

"That cousin of yours is crazy," said one gentleman to Billy; "but what a magnificent rider he is."

"Why don't you stop your cousin?" asked another, "he'll kill himself, to a certainty, if you don't."

"O I will!" replied Billy, "and I'll remonstrate with all the streaks of lightning I happen to overtake, too. I'm sure to catch a good many of them before I come up with him."

The fox "doubled" very little now, and it became evident that he was making for the Appomattox River, but whether he would cross it or double and run back was uncertain. Billy earnestly hoped he would double, as that might enable him to see Robert and check his mad riding, if indeed that gentleman should manage to reach the river with an unbroken neck.

On and on they went, fox running for dear life, hounds in perfect trim and full cry, and riders each bent upon "taking the tail" if possible. Robert remained in advance of all the rest, jumping every fence over which he could force his horse, and making the animal knock down those which he could not leap. His horse blundered at a ditch once and fell, but recovered himself with his rider still erect in the saddle, before anybody had time to wonder whether his neck was broken or not. Billy now saw a new danger ahead of his cousin. They were nearing the river, and the fox, an old red one, who knew his business, was evidently running for a crossing place where mire and quicksands abounded. Of this Robert knew nothing, and after his performances thus far there was no reason to hope that any late-coming caution would save him now. A thicket of young oaks lay just ahead, and the hounds going through it Robert followed quite as a matter of course. Billy saw here his chance, and putting spurs to his horse he rode at full speed around the end of the thicket, hoping to reach the other side in time to intercept his cousin, in whose behalf he was now really alarmed. As he swept by the end of the thicket, however, he passed two gentlemen whom he could not see through the bushes, but whose voices he knew very well. They were none other than Mr. Foggy Raves and Dr. Charles Harrison, and Billy heard what they were saying.

"You _must_ take the tail, Charley, and not let that city snob get it. The fool rides like Death on the pale horse, and don't seem to know there ever was a fence too high to jump. He'd try to take the Blue Ridge at a flying leap if it got in his way. I'd rather kill a dozen horses than let him beat us. He put his finger into our little game with that saphead Ewing, and----"

"But my horse is thumped now, Foggy."

"Well, take mine then. He's fresh. I sent him over last night to meet me here, and I just now changed. I've hurt my knee and can't ride. Take, my horse and ride him to death but what you beat that----"

This was all that Billy had time to hear, but it was enough to change his entire purpose. He no longer thought of Robert's neck, but hurried on for the sole purpose of spurring his cousin up to new exertion. He reached the edge of the thicket just as Robert came out bare-headed, having lost his hat in the brush. His face was bleeding, too, from scratches and bruises received in the struggle through the oak thicket. The river was just ahead, but the fox doubled to the right instead of crossing.

"Come, Bob," said Billy, "you've got to take the tail to-day or die. Foggy and Charley Harrison have been setting up a game on you, and Charley has a fresh horse, borrowed from Foggy on purpose to beat you. But this double gives you a quarter start of him. Don't _run_ your horse up hills, or you'll blow him out, and shy off from such thickets as that. You can ride round quicker than you can go through. _Don't break your_ NECK, BUT TAKE THE TAIL ANYHOW."

He fairly yelled the last words at Robert, who was already a hundred yards ahead of him and getting further off every second.

The effect of his words on his cousin was not precisely what might have been expected. Before this Robert had been intensely excited and had enjoyed being so, but his excitement had been the result of his high spirits and his keen zest for the sport in which he was engaged. He had astonished everybody by the utter recklessness of his riding, but had not shared at all in their astonishment or known that his riding was reckless. He had ridden hard simply because he thought that the proper thing to do and because he enjoyed doing it. He rode now for victory. His features lost the look of wild enjoyment which they had worn, and settled themselves into a firm, hard expression of dogged determination. Here was his opportunity to do battle with young Harrison; and from Billy's manner, rather than from his words, he knew that the contest was not one of generous rivalry on Harrison's part. He felt that there was a contemptuous sneer somewhere back of Billy's words, and the thought nettled him sorely. But he did not lose his head in the excitement. On the contrary, he felt the necessity now for care and coolness, and accordingly he immediately took pains to become both cool and careful. He knew that Harrison had an advantage in knowing the country, and he resolved to share that advantage. To this end he brought his horse down to an easy canter and waited for Harrison to come up. He then kept his eye constantly on his rival and used him as a guide. When Harrison avoided a thicket he avoided it also. If Harrison left the track of the hounds for the sake of cutting off an angle, Robert kept by his side. This angered Harrison, who had counted confidently upon having an advantage in these matters, and under the influence of his anger he spurred his horse unnecessarily and soon took a good deal of his freshness out of him.

The two rode on almost side by side for miles. The fox was beginning to show his fatigue, and it was evident that the chase would soon end. Both the foremost riders discovered this, and both put forth every possible exertion to win. Just ahead of them lay a very dense thicket through which ran a narrow bridle-path barely wide enough for one horse, as Robert knew, for the thicket lay on Shirley plantation, the fox having run back almost immediately over his own track. It was evident now that "the catch" would occur in the field just beyond this thicket, and it was equally evident that as the two could not possibly ride abreast along the bridle-path, the one who could first put his horse into it would almost certainly be first in at the death. They rode like madmen, but Robert's horse was greatly fatigued and Harrison shot ahead of him by a single length into the path. There was hardly a chance for Robert now, as it was impossible in any case for him to pass his rival in the thicket, and he could see that the dogs had already caught the fox in the field, less than a rod beyond its edge.

"I've got you now, I reckon," shouted Harrison looking back, but at the moment his horse stumbled and fell. Robert could no more stop his own horse than he could have stopped a hurricane, and the animal fell heavily over Harrison, throwing Robert about ten feet beyond and almost among the dogs. Getting up he ran in among the bellowing hounds and, catching the fox in his hand, he held him up in full view of the other gentlemen, now riding into the field from different directions and cheering as lustily as possible.