132 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



hounds ! — that they cost him five-and-twenty underd — two thou- 

 sand five underd a year ! And where, let me ax, with wheat down 

 to nothing, would you get another, if he was to throw up ? " 



As Jack made this inquiry, he took a hurried glance at the now 

 pouring-out pack ; and seeing they were safe away, he wiped the 

 foam from his mouth on his sleeve, dropped into his saddle, and 

 catching his horse short round by the head, clapped spurs into his 

 sides, and galloped away, exclaiming, 



"Now, ye tinkers, ive'll all start fair ! " 



Then there was such a scrimmage ! such jostling and elbowing 

 among the jealous ones ; such ramming and cramming among the 

 ea«:er ones ; such pardon-begging among the polite ones ; such 

 spurting of ponies, such clambering of cart-horses ! All were bent 

 on going as far as they could — all except Jawleyford, who sat 

 curvetting and prancing in the patronising sort of way gentlemen 

 do who encourage hounds for the sake of the manly spirit the 

 sport engenders, and the advantage hunting is of in promoting 

 our unrivalled breed of horses. 



His lordship having slipped away, horn in hand, under pretence 

 of blowing the hounds out of cover, as soon as he set Jack at the 

 field, had now got a good start, and, horse well in hand, was sail- 

 ing away in their wake. 



" F-o-o-r-r-ard /" screamed Frosty face, coming up alongside of 

 him, holding his horse — a magnificent thoroughbred bay — well by 

 the head, and settling himself into his saddle as he went. 



» F-o-r-rard ! " screeched his lordship, thrusting his spectacles 

 on to his nose. 



" Tivang — twang — twang" went the huntsman's deep-sounding 

 horn. 



" Tiveet — f iveet — Vwect" went his lordship's shriller one. 



" In for a stinger, my lurd," observed Jack, returning his horn 

 to the case. 



" Hope so," replied his lordship, pocketing his. 



They then flew the first fence together. 



" F-o-r-r-ard ! " screamed Jack in the air, as he saw the hounds 

 packing well together, and racing with a breast-high scent. 



« F-o-r-rard ! " screamed his lordship, who was a sort of echo to 

 his huntsman, just as Jack Spraggon was echo to his lordship. 



" He's away for Gunnersby Craigs," observed Jack, pointing 

 that way, for they were good ten miles off. 



" Hope so," replied his lordship, for whom the distance could 

 never be too great, provided the pace corresponded. 



" F-o-o-r-rard ! " screamed Jack. 



" F-o-r-rard ! " screeched his lordship. 



So they went flying and " forrarding " together ; none of the 

 field — thanks to Jack Spraggon — being able to overtake them. 



