Being a sportswoman, she made the best of things, and did her utmost to soothe her mount's somewhat fiery temper.
"You shall have a clean jump at the end, Hector, old boy," she promised him.

"We shall soon be out of it." But in this matter also she was to receive a check; for when they came to the clean jump, it was to find a formidable fence of wooden paling confronting them, intervening directly in their line of march.

It seemed that the energetic owner had been attending to his boundaries with a zeal that no huntsman would appreciate.
Doris bit her lip with a murmured "Too bad!" There was nothing for it but to skirt the hedge in search of a gate.
Hector was naturally even more indignant than she, and stamped and squealed as she turned him from the obstacle.

He also wanted to get home, and he was tired of fighting his way through ploughed land that held him like a bog.

To add to their discomfort it had begun to rain again, and there seemed every prospect of being speedily soaked to the skin.
Altogether the outlook was depressing; but someone was whistling cheerily on the farther side of the field, and Doris took heart.