The Washington herald. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1906-1939, 1907-03-03
CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER I.
Rafting good morning. this" yawned
the first whip, as he rolled out of Isis
blankets.
1t was a crisp November day in War
rington. The leaves were just touched
with the red of the declining year. A
soft haze hung over the blue outlines of
the Shenandoah range. The air had in it
the tingle of mountain freshness. 1t was
early and the sun was climbing into the
heavens in a haze Of yellow mist
"Foine," replied the huntsman Of the
Warrington hounds. as he put on his
newly pipe-elayed trousers; "and it's a
good run We're going 90 give yer, Mr..
Goose Creek fox, for yer can't run on a
damp mornin' an tn deWs as heavy as in
the Old Country on a foine September
day"
It's the Goose Creek fox to-day is it,"
Queried the first whip
ITS old Mr. Redbeard in tn TOmlins'
woods Jack, an he's got to run hard an
fast 10 keep his brush home this day"
The hounds seemed TO have known it,
too. For as the stable door was opened,
from the kennel came the deep howl and
bay of the pack First old Traveller spoke.
then Vixen, Venturer, and Vigorous set
up a cheerful song. Trumpeter answered.
and little Sweetlips yelped good-day TO
the best of hunting mornings When
she saw the huntsman's pink she knew
that there was cheerful work ahead and
plenty of fun for her.
say, jack beloved the NJ. F. II.
from his sec0nd-story window, I'm riding
the gray mare. and the madam viii be UP
on Pretty Poll"
IAN right" sang back the first whip
tand the only whip. 9TH gray mares in
foine condition, an Pretty Polls as ut as
a fiddler, an Wantin' to take tn moon fer
a jump
He returned TO his work of saddling
up with alacrity for down the road came
the first early riser of that glorious hunt
ing morn. Mounted on a leggy timber
topper" with breezy head. fine nostrils.
and a kind, intelligent eye, sat the per-
feet type of Virginia gentleman. The
man in the saddle was nOnchalantly smOk-
ing a cigarette. He was between the ages
of thirty and forty light mustache
covered his upper lip. his naxen hair curl
ed gracefully from beneath a well-ironed
derby. a pair Of clear. blue eyes looked
cheerfulIy forth upon the landscape. and
b the deep tan Of his cheek bespoke of out
door life and much cross-coUntry work
upon his timber-topper.
The gentleman was a common type in
Virginia. His occupation: Farmer and
breeder Of hunters and steeplechasers
His name: Jack Fanshawe, of CIiveden.
Fauquier County. His income: Variable
For there were seasons and seasons in
his profession as in any other walk OF
calling i'm life Some years the trade
would be good. His three and fOUr-year-
OlGs, schooled for the most part by him
self. would do exceedingly well on The
Eastern tracks. They would win q purse
OF two. and then be sold for an excel
lent figure TO some wealthy stock broker
in New York or Chicago with Ions
purse and love OF racing. Then, again.
there would be off years. when the young
sters did badly and did nothing but break
timber and fan down. Ia these trying
times there was not much income for ou
friend Jack Fanshawe. But he took his
failures and his successes with cheerful
Indifference SO that he was often called
Happy jack by those who were ac-
Quainted with his business and his pleas
ures,
soon another rider came along the
road. a lady this time. with her checks
as pink as the rose and her hair reflect
ing the early morning sun with the same
golden CLINT that shone from the curly
head of Happy Jack. 1t was Dorothy
Fanshawe. sister of our horsey squire.
and called Pretty Poll by all the coun-
tryside.
Hello, there jack" she caroIed. you
beat me by fifteen minutes. Have YOU
seen the cocl1y Englishman who has come
down to hunt with u.s."
What. another one?" asked Fanshawe.
why. the c0untry's getting Overrun with
these devilish fellows"
But such nice. clean-lOoking one this
time, Jack; and he says 'doncher know,
and ali that sort of thing. as if he really
couldn't help it, He asked sam Scarlet
If there was any 'bawth In the Warren
Green. Imagine any one having a 'bawth'
in that ramshackle"
FanshaWe laughed "Why. here's Tom
Truscott and Sam Scarlet he said, point
ing up the road. ''And Sis Scarlet out
on Triumphant or else I'm another.
Why. that horse VIII kill her"
u
the NJ. r. II, as he threw open his hos
pitable front door and came out upon the
broad piazza. Did you ever see a bet
ter morning than this. gentlemen and
lades?"
Where 10 this time. JIM" asked a
thin. swarthy looking fellow. riding up to
the steps and doffing his derby politely 10
Miss Fanshawe. Il was sam Scarlet.
gentleman jockey and Indifferent farmer.
After the old Goose Creek fox. sam:
and. damme, if We don't catch him on
this whacking fine day. then I'm not fit
10 be NJ. +. H. and blow Il cow-horn 10
call off the hounds"
\ heavy. thicE-set man now Joined the
little group Mounted on a stout, COLBY
gray. he looked as If he, too. had spent
the greater portion of his life in the open.
He was dressed in a striped tweed riding
suit. His dropping mustache shaded q
somewhat weak-looking chin. This was
Tom Truscott, formerly of New York
City and of the firm CT Truscott &
Towuer. bankers and brokers. but now
gentleman farmer of Virginia Il was
ruGored that he had made his pile" in