HUNTS WITH JORROCKS 



clearing his throat with a prolonged y-e-a-u-u-p ! 

 as he prepared his big whip for execution, he 

 gave such a cannonade of a crack, as sounded 

 through the house and reverberated in the forest. 



'Sink, but that's a good 'un!' grinned Pigg, 

 listening to the oft-repeated echoes. 



Scarcely were the words out of his mouth, 

 before, bang, went a lattice-window up above, 

 and a rival of the red-faced sun appeared beneath 

 the night-capped head of the Deputy-surveyor. 



' What are you doin' here ? ' roared a stentorian 

 voice. 



' Rum, ar say ! rum ! ' exclaimed Pigg, thinking 

 he was asking what he would have to drink. 



' Doin' 'ere ! ' replied Mr. Jorrocks, whose ears 

 had served him better. ' Doin' 'ere ! vy I be come 

 to 'unt the foxes to be sure ! ' 



'Hunt the foxes,' retorted Prettyfat indig- 

 nantly. 'Is this a time to come and hunt foxes 

 none but chimney-sweeps would disturb one 

 at this hour.' 



'Sink, gin ye '11 had mar hus aril get off 



108 



