108 ME. SFONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 



the hounds hit off the scent ; while the late pausing, panting 

 sportsmen tackled vigorously with their steeds, and swept onward 

 like the careering wind. 



Mr. Sponge, albeit somewhat perplexed, had still sufficient 

 presence of mind to see the necessity of immediate action ; and 

 though he had so lately contemplated beating a retreat, the unex- 

 pected appearance of Parvo altered the state of affairs. 



" Now or never," said he, looking first at the disappearing field, 

 and then for the non-appearing Leather. " Hang it ! I may as 

 well see the run," added he ; so hooking the piebald on to an old 

 stone gate-post that stood in the ragged fence, and lengthening a 

 stirrup-leather, he vaulted into the saddle, and began lengthening 

 the other as he went. 



It was one of Parvo's going days ; indeed, it was that that Old 

 Leather and he had quarrelled about — Parvo wanting to follow the 

 hounds, while Leather wanted to wait for his master. And Parvo 

 had the knack of going, as well as the occasional inclination. 

 Although such a drayhorse-looking animal, he could throw the 

 ground behind him amazingly ; and the deep-holding clay in 

 which he now found himself was admirably suited to his short 

 powerful legs and enormous stride. The consequence was, that he 

 was very soon up with the hindmost horsemen. These he soon 

 passed, and was presently among those who ride hard when there 

 is nothing to stop them. Such time as these sportsmen could 

 now spare from looking out ahead was devoted to Sponge, whom 

 they eyed with the utmost astonishment, as if he had dropped 

 from the clouds. 



A stranger — a real out-and-out stranger — had not visited their 

 remote regions since the days of poor Nimrod. " Who could it 

 be ? " But " the pace," as Nimrod used to say, " was too good to 

 inquire." A little further on, and Sponge drew upon the great 

 guns of the hunt — the men who ride to hounds, and not after 

 them ; the same who had criticised him through the fence — Mr. 

 Wake, Mr. Fossick, Parson Blossomnose, Mr. Fyle, Lord Scamper- 

 dale, Jack himself and others. Great was their astonishment at 

 the apparition, and incoherent the observations they dropped as 

 they galloped on. 



" It isn't Wash, after all," whispered Fyle into Blossomnose's 

 ear, as they rode through a gate together. 



" Nb-o-o," replied the nose, eyeing Sponge intently. 



" What a coat ! " whispered one. 



" Jacket," replied the other. 



" Lost his brush," observed a third, winking at Sponge's docked 

 tail. 



" He's going to ride over us all," snapped Mr. Fossick, whom 

 Sponge passed at a hand-canter, as the former was blobbing 



