MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 10» 



and floundering about the deep ruts leading out of a turnip- 

 field. 



" He'll catch it just now," said Mr. Wake, eyeing Sponge 

 drawing upon his lordship and Jack, as they led the field as usual. 

 Jack being at a respectful distance behind his great patron, espied 

 Sponge first ; and having taken a good stare at him through his 

 formidable spectacles, to satisfy himself that it was nobody he 

 knew — a stare that Sponge returned as well as a man without 

 spectacles can return the stare of one with — Jack spurred his 

 horse up to his lordship, and, rising in his stirrups, shot into his 

 ear — 



" Why, here's the man on the cow ! " adding, " It isn't Washey." 



" Who the deuce is it, then ? " asked his lordship, looking over 

 his left shoulder, as he kept galloping on in the wake of his 

 huntsman. 



" Don't know," replied Jock ; "never saw him before." 



" Nor I," said his lordship with an air, as much as to say, " It 

 makes no matter." 



His lordship, though well mounted, was not exactly on the sort 

 of horse for the country they were in ; while Mr. Sponge, in 

 addition to being on the very animal for it, had the advantage of 

 the horse having gone the first part of the run without a rider : so 

 Multum in Parvo, whether Mr. Sponge wished it or not, insisted on 

 being as far forward as he could get. The more Sponge pulled and 

 hauled, the more determined the horse was ; till, having thrown 

 both Jack and his lordship in the rear, he made for old Frostyface, 

 the huntsman, who was riding well up to the still-flying pack. 



" Hold hard, sir ! For God's sake, hold hard ! " screamed 

 Frosty, who knew by intuition there was a horse behind, as well 

 as he knew there was a man shooting in front, who, in all pro- 

 bability, had headed the fox. 



" Hold hard, sir ! " roared he, as, yawning and boring and 

 shaking his head, Parvo dashed through the now yelping scattered 

 pack, making straight for a stiff new gate, which he smashed 

 through, just as a circus pony smashes through a paper hoop. 



" Hoo-ray ! " shouted Jack Spraggon, on seeing the hounds 

 were safe. " Hoo-ray for the tailor ! " 



" Billy Button, himself ! " exclaimed his lordship ; adding 

 " Never saw such a thing in my life ! " 



" Who the deuce is he ? " asked Blossomnose, in the full glow 

 of pulling-five-year-old exertion. 



" Don't know," replied Jack ; adding, " He's a shaver, whoever 

 he is." 



Meanwhile the frightened hounds were scattered right and left. 



" I'll lay a guinea he's one of those confounded writing chaps," 

 observed Fyle, who had been handled rather roughly by one of the 



