R. M. Now then--Walk!... Trot! Set back, Gentlemen, set back all--'old
on by your knees, not the pommels. _I_ see you, Mr. Jelly, kitchin' old
o' the mane--I shall 'ave to give you a 'ogged 'orse next time you come.
Quicken up a bit--this is a ride, not a funeral. Why, I could _roll_
faster than you're trotting! Lor, you're like a row o' Guy Foxes on
'orseback, you are! Ah, I thought I'd see one o' you orf! Goa-ron, all
o' you, you don't come 'ere to _play_ at ridin'--I'll make you ride
afore I've done with you! 'Ullo, Mr. Joggles, nearly gone that time,
Sir! There, that'll do--or we'll 'ave all your saddles to let
unfurnished. Wa--alk! Mr. Bilbow-Kay, when your 'orse changes his pace
sudden, it don't look well for you to be found settin' 'arf way up his
neck, and it gives him a bad opinion of yer, Sir. Uncross stirrups! Trot
on! It ain't no mortal use your clucking to that mare, Mr. Tongs, Sir,
because she don't understand the langwidge--touch her with your 'eel in
the ribs. Mr. Sniggers, that 'orse is doin' jest what he likes with you.
'It 'im, Sir; he's no friends and few relations!
MR. S. (_with spirit_). _I_ ain't going to 'it 'im. If you want him 'it,
get up and do it yourself!
R. M. When I say "Circle Right"--odd numbers'll wheel round and fall in
be'ind even ones. Circle _Right_!... Well, if ever I--I didn't tell yer
to fall _off_ be'ind. Ketch your 'orses and stick to 'em next time.
Right In-_cline_! O' course, Mr. Joggles, if you prefer takin' that
animal for a little ride all by himself we'll let you out in the
streets--otherwise p'raps you'll kindly follow yer leader. Captain
Cropper, Sir, if you let that curb out a bit more, _Reindeer_ wouldn't
be 'arf so narsty with yer.... Ah, now you _'ave_ done it. You want
_your_ reins painted different colours and labelled, Sir, you do. 'Alt,
the rest of you.... Now, seein' you're shook down in your saddles a
bit--["_Shook_ up'_s_ _more like it_!" _from_ Mr. S.]--we'll 'ave the
'urdles in and show you a bit o' Donnybrook! (_The Class endeavours to
assume an air of delighted anticipation at this pleasing prospect._)
_To_ Assistant R. M., (_who has entered and said something in an
undertone_.) Eh, Captin' 'Edstall here, and wants to try the grey cob
over 'urdles? Ask him if he'll come in now--we're just going to do some
jumping.
ASSIST. R. M. This lot don't look much like going over 'urdles--'cept in
front o' the 'orse, but I'll tell the Captain.
[_The hurdles are brought in and propped up._ _Enter a well-turned-out_
STRANGER, _on a grey cob_.
MR. SNIGGERS (_to him_). You ain't lost nothing by coming late, I can
tell yer. We've bin having a gay old time in 'ere--made us ride without
sterrups, he did!
CAPTAIN HEADSTALL. Haw, really? Didn't get grassed, did you?
MR. S. Well, me and my 'orse separated by mutual consent. I ain't what
you call a fancy 'orseman. We've got to go at that 'urdle in a minute.
How do _you_ like the ideer, eh? It's no good funking it--it's got to be
_done_!
R. M. Now, Captin--not _you_, Captin Cropper--Captin 'Edstall _I_ mean,
will you show them the way over, please?
[CAPTAIN H. _rides at it_; _the cob jumps too short, and knocks the
hurdle down--to his rider's intense disgust_.
MR. S. I say, Guvnor, that was a near thing. I wonder you weren't off.
CAPT. H. I--ah--don't often come off.
MR. S. You won't say that when you've been 'ere a few times. You see,
they've put you on a quiet animal this journey. _I_ shall try to get him
myself next time. He be'aves like a gentleman, _he_ does.
CAPT. H. You won't mount him, if you take my advice--he has rather a
delicate mouth.
MR. S. Oh, I don't mind that--I should ride him on the curb o' course.
[_The Class ride at the hurdle one by one._
R. M. Now, Mr. Sniggers, give 'im more of 'is 'ed than that, Sir--or
he'll take it.... Oh, Lor, well, it's soft falling luckily! Mr. Joggles,
Sir, keep him back till you're in a line with it.... Better, Sir; you
come down true on your saddle afterwards anyway!... Mr. Parabole!... Ah,
_would_ you? _Told_ you he was tricky, Sir! Try him at it again....
Now--over!... Yes, and it is over, and no mistake!
MRS. B.-K. Now it's Robert's turn. I'm afraid he's been overtiring
himself, he looks so pale. Bob, you won't let him jump too high, _will_
you?--Oh, I daren't look. Tell me, my love,--is he _safe_?
HER FRIEND. Perfectly--they're just brushing him down.