Major Hammerslea looked at him severely, as if his youth were not wholly an excuse. "It is, as I said," he observed. "It is one thing to ride an American pony and another to ride a British Hunter. One requires horsemanship, the other does not. And horsemanship," he continued, "which properly is the guiding of a horse across country, requires years of study and experience." Lord Frederic looked somewhat unconvinced but he said nothing. "Of course the dear Major (she called it deah Majaw) is unquestionably right," said Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "Undoubtedly," said Mr. Carteret. "I suppose that he has often seen Indians ride?" "Have you often seen these Indians ride?" inquired Mrs. Ascott-Smith of the Major. "Do you mean Indians or the Red Men of North America?" replied the Major. "And do you mean upon ponies in a show or upon British Hunters?" "Which do you mean?" asked Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "I suppose that I mean American Indians," said Mr. Carteret, "and either upon ponies or upon British Hunters." "No," said the Major, "I have not. Have you?" "Not upon British Hunters," said Mr. Carteret. "But do you think that they could?" inquired Lord Frederic. "It would be foolish of me to express an opinion," replied Mr. Carteret, "because, in the first place, I have never seen them ride British Hunters over jumps--" "They would come off at the first obstacle," observed the Major, more in sorrow than in anger. "And in the second place," continued Mr. Carteret, "I am perhaps naturally prejudiced in behalf of my fellow countrymen." Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked at him anxiously. His sister had married a British peer. "But you Americans are quite distinct from the red Indians," she said. "We quite understand that nowadays. To be sure, my dear Aunt--" She stopped. "Rather!" said Mrs. Archie Brawle. "You don't even intermarry with them, do you?" "That is a matter of personal taste," said Mr. Carteret. "There is no law against it." "But nobody that one knows--" began Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "There was John Rohlfs," said Mr. Carteret; "he was a very well known chap." "Do you know him?" asked Mrs. Brawle. The Curate sniggered. His hour of triumph had come. "Rohlfs is dead," he said. "Really!" said Mrs. Brawle, coldly. "It had quite slipped my mind. You see I never read the papers during the hunting. But is his wife received?" "I believe that she was," said Mr. Carteret. The Curate was still sniggering and Mrs. Brawle put her glass in her eye and looked at him. Then she turned to Mr. Carteret. "But all this," she said, "of course, has nothing to do with the question. Do you think that these red Indians could ride bareback across our country?" "As I said before," replied Mr. Carteret, "it would be silly of me to express an opinion, but I should be interested in seeing them try it." "I have a topping idea!" cried Lord Frederic. He was a simple-minded fellow. "You must tell us," exclaimed Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "Let us have them down, and take them hunting!"