The dogs leaped over a hedge, a pretty high one. Away went the
huntsmen after them.
I saw one man thrown as he tried to leap the hedge, and away went
his horse and left him.
I saw two, three, four go over as if they were flying. O, how
beautiful it was to see them!
Then I saw a rider and his horse both fall into a ditch they were
trying to leap. Then came another, and over he went, all clear, as a
cat might jump.
The hunter in the ditch scrambled out, but his horse was hurt and
could not move.
Some men from the farm house, before which I was sitting, looking at
the hunt, took ropes and went to help the maimed horse.
By this time, we heard but faintly the huntsmen's horn and merry
shouts; and soon they were all out of sight, save the four or five
men who were aiding the poor horse to get out of the ditch.
I returned home, thinking that, after all, hunting tame deer was a
poor amusement. But I am an American lady; and were I an English
gentleman, I might feel very differently.
"I think I should like hunting right well. It would be real good
fun," said Harry.
"And so should I," said Frank.
The dog of the St. Bernard, who is called the Alpine spaniel, you
have heard and read of; and you have that pretty picture of one of
those dogs with a boy on his back.
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