I was very sorry to hear this order given; for although I felt far from being in health, I was anything but disposed to be placed on the hospital list. Being passed forward to the others, Vanquisher was summoned, and the Squire noticing him limp, said, “What is the matter with that hound? He’s lame.” “He has cut his near fore-foot a little,” replied Will. “Let me see,” rejoined our master, and upon lifting it up, said, “He has sprung a claw, and _you_ ought to have known it.” The huntsman’s face became a little flushed, and he looked as if he felt the rebuke keenly. There was no further remark of censure after this, and when the entire presentation had been gone through with, the Squire took his departure, expressing himself perfectly satisfied and content with the general arrangements of the establishment. “I’m not going out to-morrow,” said I to Trimbush, with my spirits down to zero. “Never mind,” replied my friend; adding, by way of consolation, that he would give me a good account of the day’s sport. “Yes,” rejoined I, “but that’s a poor makeshift for the disappointment of not joining in it.” “Well, well!” added he, hastily. “We can’t have everything as we could wish, and must make the best of crooked matters when they occur. I dare say,” continued Trimbush, “that the blow you received the other day, with the fright, may have put you out of sorts.” “Probably,” said I, “and I wish the fellow----” “Pish, pish!” interrupted my companion. “You might as well wish him good as wish him evil. We have no more power in the one case than in the other, and it’s old womanish to snap your teeth when you can’t bite.” “I heard a man say, when we were out last,” said I, resolved to take advantage of Trimbush’s present loquacious humour; for the old hound spent most of his time in a sort of dreaming, winking, blinking state in the kennel, and was excessively out of temper if disturbed, “I heard a man say when we were out last,” repeated I, “that he liked to see a flying hound, and would hang every line-hunter that was ever bred.” “He must have known a great deal about fox-hunting,” replied Trimbush, with a sarcastic grin, “a very great deal indeed. I should like to have his name and address.” “Of course he was wrong,” observed I, with a slight touch of the interrogative in the remark.