'I've seen it on the frontier at its best. You lose the essence of sport; that, I take it, lies in pitting your strength, or skill, or endurance against the quarry. In hawking you ride behind the skill; and as the country is easy, the whole thing resolves itself into the pace of your horse; in other words, what you paid for the beast.' 'Not always! I'd back Bronzewing against the field any day,' cried Rose impulsively. He looked up with quite a flush of pleasure. 'Well! she should do her best to win the gloves for you, Miss Tweedie.' The reply came as naturally as the remark which provoked it, but it made the girl feel suddenly shy and say hastily-- 'She looks as if she wanted to be off now; how that partridge startled her!' 'Not a bit of it. She is only longing, as I am, for a hunt.' 'A hunt?' 'Yes! a partridge-hunt. Have you never seen one?' He gave a rapid glance round. 'There are too many bushes here, but Keene may know of some fairly-open country, with perhaps a thorn-hedge or two for you to jump--that is to say, if you have had enough of this festive scene.' Five minutes after, George Keene, Dan Fitzgerald, Lewis Gordon, and she were sweeping along in line across low sand-hills in order to dip down into a harder plain among stretches of level, dotted sparsely with low caper-bushes, with here and there a patch of cultivation showing vividly green against its whitey-brown frame of desert, and here and there a bit of plough ready for the summer crop. There is nothing more invigorating in the world than riding in line at a hand-gallop across such country in the freshness of early morning, especially when the party has gay hearts and light heads. Rose felt that it was worth all her purely feminine amusements put together, and, with a flush of enjoyment on her face, besieged Lewis Gordon with high-pitched questions as to what they were going to do; he calling back his answers, so that their voices rose above the rhythmical beating of the horses' hoofs. 'We are going without dog or coolie, gun or any lethal weapon whatever--as the code says--to ride down and capture the grey partridge or _Ammoperdix bonhami_! Have you seen it done, Fitzgerald?' 'Heard of it only. The pace must be good.' 'Racing speed; no less. Therein lies the fun.' He gave a quick glance at Rose's tackle, and frowned. 'You should have a stronger bit,' he began when she interrupted him. 'It is the same as yours.' 'Perhaps. But a lady can't ride like a man, especially in this sort of work. If I had noticed it before, I----' 'Nonsense! I always ride with a snaffle, and Shâhâd is as steady as a house.' 'That is no argument. In my opinion a lady should----'