With draggled pink stuck close to skin, The Squire leaned from bank and hauled His mired horse's rein; he bawled For help from each man racing by. "What, help you pull him out? Not I. What made you pull him in?" they said. Nob Manor cleared and turned his head, And cried "Wade up. The ford's upstream." Ock Gurney in a cloud of steam Stood by his dripping cob and wrung The taste of brook mud from his tongue And scraped his poor cob's pasterns clean. "Lord, what a crowner we've a been, This jumping brook's a mucky job." He muttered, grinning, "Lord, poor cob. Now sir, let me." He turned to Squire And cleared his hunter from the mire By skill and sense and strength of arm. FULL CRY Meanwhile the fox passed Nonesuch Farm, Keeping the spinney on his right. Hounds raced him here with all their might Along the short firm grass, like fire. The cowman viewed him from the byre Lolloping on, six fields ahead, Then hounds, still carrying such a head, It made him stare, then Rob on Pip, Sailing the great grass like a ship, Then grand Maroon in all his glory Sweeping his strides, his great chest hoary With foam fleck and the pale hill-marl. They strode the Leet, they flew the Snarl, They knocked the nuts at Nonesuch Mill, Raced up the spur of Gallows Hill And viewed him there. The line he took Was Tineton and the Pantry Brook, Going like fun and hounds like mad. Tom glanced to see what friends he had Still within sight, before he turned The ridge's shoulder; he discerned, One field away, young Cothill sailing Easily up. Pete Gurney failing, Hugh Colway quartering on Sir Peter, Bill waiting on the mare to beat her, Sal Ridden skirting to the right. A horse, with stirrups flashing bright Over his head at every stride, Looked like the Major's; Tom espied Far back, a scarlet speck of man Running, and straddling as he ran. Charles Copse was up, Nob Manor followed, Then Bennett's big-boned black that wallowed Clumsy, but with the strength of ten. Then black and brown and scarlet men, Brown horses, white and black and grey Scattered a dozen fields away. The shoulder shut the scene away. [Illustration: Sixth colored plate _Courtesy Arthur Ackermann and Son, New York_]