So we pounded along at the tail of the hunt, and I did not appreciate that my arm was broken for three or four fences.

Then we came to a big drop, and the jar made the bones slip past one another so as to throw the hand out of position.

It did not hurt me at all, and as the horse was as easy to sit as a rocking-chair, I got in at the death.
I think August Belmont was master of the hunt when the above incident occurred.

I know he was master on another occasion on which I met with a mild adventure.

On one of the hunts when I was out a man was thrown, dragged by one stirrup, and killed.