1 8 Tom Tootler. 



ordinary occasion, possessed. Indeed, if the truth must 

 be told, Mr. '* Hem," as the Huntsman calls him, is a far 

 better judge of a baron of beef than a fox-hound. Tom 

 Tootler gets somewhat put out at last, for Mr. Marrer- 

 bone, notwithstanding the astounding stories Tom relates 

 of old Warrior's sagacity and staunchness in the field, and 

 his encomiums on the old hound's make and shape — 

 '' There's a head, there s legs, there s a back for you," says 

 Tom — won't have him at any price, but vows that old 

 Tomboy is far better looking, better shaped, ay, and a 

 better hound altogether, he'll be bound, than yon ugly- 

 looking beggar. Tom, in return, with a snort of disgust, 

 vows that if he had had his way the redoubtable Tomboy 

 would have had a rope round his neck long ago — not that 

 he really meant what he said, for, as he very well knew, 

 old Tomboy was as good a hound as any in the pack. 



At this juncture Tom catches sight of us for the first time, 

 and perhaps our advent at that particular moment was 

 lucky, as the worthy pair, judging by appearances, were 

 decidedly getting their "frills out" as the saying is. 



Mr. Marrerbone, seeing us, bids his entertainer fare- 

 well, and Tom opens the door for his egress and our 

 entrance. 



*^ Marnin', sir, Marnin . Don't look much like huntin', 

 do it. Squire ? " begins Tom. "Will you come in and 

 have a look at 'em, sir ? " he goes on. " Down, Traveller ! 

 down, good dawg ! Take my whip. Squire. Never 

 mind me, sir, I've got another here." We then proceed 

 to do the hounds — now praising this one, now that. " What 

 a day that was from Raddleton Wood ! eh. Squire ? Ah ! 

 here's old Priestess. D'ye call to mind old Priestess that 

 day, Squire ? " 



