MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TO UP. 133 



" Y-o-o-nder he goes ! " at last cried Frosty, taking off his cap 

 as he viewed the fox, some half-mile ahead, stealing away round 

 the side of Newington hill. 



" Tallyho ! " screeched his lordship, riding with his flat hat in 

 the air, by way of exciting the striving field to still further 

 exertion. 



" He's a good 'un ! " exclaimed Frosty, eyeing the fox's going. 



" He is that ! " replied his lordship, staring at him with all his 

 might. 



Then they rode on, and were presently rounding Newington 

 hill themselves, the hounds packing well together, and carrying a 

 famous head. 



His lordship now looked to see what was going on behind. 



Scrambleford hill was far in the rear. Jawleyford and the boy 

 in blue were altogether lost in the distance. A quarter of a mile 

 or so this way were a couple of dots of horsemen, one on a white, 

 the other on a dark colour — most likely Jones, the keeper, and 

 Farmer Stubble, on the foaly mare. Then, a little nearer, was a 

 man in a hedge, trying to coax his horse after him, stopping the 

 way of two boys in white trowsers, whose ponies looked like rats. 

 Again, a little nearer, were some of the persevering ones — men 

 who still hold on in the forlorn hopes of a check — all dark-coated, 

 and mostly trousered. Then came the last of the red-coats — Tom 

 Washball, Charley Joyce, and Sam Sloman, riding well in the 

 first flight of second horsemen — his lordship's pad-groom, Mr. 

 Fossick's man in drab with a green collar, Mr. Wake's in blue, 

 also a lad in scarlet and a flat hat, with a second horse for the 

 huntsman. Drawing still nearer came the ruck — men in red, men 

 in brown, men in livery, a farmer or two in fustian, all mingled 

 together ; and a few hundred yards before these, and close upon 

 his lordship, were the elite of the field — five men in scarlet and 

 one in black. Let us see who they are. By the powers, Mr. 

 Sponge is first ! — Sponge sailing away at his ease, followed by 

 Jack, who is staring at him through his great lamps, longing to 

 launch out at him, but as yet wanting an excuse ; Sponge having 

 ridden with judgment — judgment, at least, in everything except 

 in having taken the lead of Jack. After Jack comes old black- 

 booted Blossomnose ; and Messrs. Wake, Fossick, and Fyle, 

 complete our complement of five. They are all riding steadily 

 and well ; all very irate, however, at the stranger for going 

 before them, and ready to back Jack in anything he may say 

 or do. 



On, on they go ; the hounds still pressing forward, though not 

 carrying quite so good a head as before. In truth, they have ran 

 four miles in twenty minutes; pretty good going anywhere except 

 upon paper, where they always go unnaturally fast. However, there 



