On the other hand, we will suppose that you have tired your best hunter early in the day, or he had fallen lame on that weak point where everybody said he _would_ be lame when you bought him, or you have a hundred and fifty other reasons for wishing to sneak quietly home, out of the observation of your friends. Those plaguy hounds seem to follow you as if you were the Wild Huntsman himself, and you begin to appreciate the severity of the punishment inflicted on that wicked German Baron. They draw coverts that lie on your homeward way. They find, and hunt with provoking persistency alongside the very lane up which you would fain jog in solitude, crossing it more than once under your nose. There is sure to be a fair holding scent, not good enough to enable them to run clear out of your neighbourhood and have done with it, yet sufficient to afford plenty of enjoyment to such as are with them; these have, nevertheless, leisure to observe your movements, and to wonder why you are not amongst them. They are all your own particular friends, and you know you will be called upon, next hunting morning, to answer the difficult question—“What became of _you_, after we left you in the road at So-and-so?” Diana seems to delight in the rule of contrary. Like the rest of her sex, she takes you up and persecutes you, when you don’t want her; and when you are most ardent and zealous in her pursuit, she rebuffs you and puts you down. Nothing could be further from Mr. Sawyer’s wishes than to find himself, on the present occasion, in a conspicuous position with the Quorn hounds. Had he wanted to be singled out in front of all that talent and beauty, Marathon was certainly the last animal he would have chosen on which to make an appearance in such choice company; nevertheless, the force of circumstances is beyond the control even of men like Mr. Sawyer, and however averse he might be to “achieve greatness,” he found, most unwillingly, “greatness thrust upon him.” For awhile he had lost sight of everybody, and was in the act of pulling out his cigar-case to enjoy one of his Laranagas in solitude and repose, proposing to hang on the line, keeping a little down wind, and as soon as he should spy the second-horses, mount the grey, and send Marathon straight home. Crasher, he thought, would buy the horse without asking any more questions.