MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 163 



sort of unlicensed horse-dealers, from whose presence few hunts are 

 wholly free. Mr. Spraggon thought, if he could get Sponge to 

 make it worth his while to get my lord to buy his horses, the— 

 whatever he might get — would come in very comfortably to pay 

 his Christmas bills. 



By the time the bottle drew to a close, our friends were rather 

 better friends, and seemed more inclined to fraternise. Jack had 

 the advantage of Sponge, for he could stare, or rather squint, at 

 him without Sponge knowing it. The pint of wine apiece — at 

 least as near a pint apiece as Spigot could afford to let them have — 

 somewhat strung Jack's nerves as well as his eyes, and he began to 

 show more of the pupils and less of the whites than he did. He 

 buzzed the bottle with such a hearty good will as settled the fate of 

 another, which Sponge rang for as a matter of course. There was 

 but the rejected one, which, however, Spigot put into a different 

 decanter, and brought in with such an air as precluded either of 

 them saying a word in disparagement of it. 



" Where are the hounds next week ? " asked Sponge, sipping 

 away at it. 



" Monday, Larkhall Hill ; Tuesday, the cross-roads by Dallington 

 Burn ; Thursday, the Toll-bar at Whitburrow Green ; Saturday, 

 the kennels," replied Jack. 



" Good places ? " asked Sponge. 



" Monday's good," replied Jack ; " draw Thorney Gorse — sure 

 find ; second draw, Barnlow Woods, and home by Loxley, Padmore, 

 and so on." 



" What sort of a place is Tuesday ? " 



" Tuesday ? " repeated Jack. " Tuesday ! Oh, that's the cross 

 roads. Capital place, unless the fox takes to Bumborrow Craigs, 

 or gets into Seedeywood Forest, when there's an end of it — at 

 least an end of everything except pulling one's horse's legs off in 

 the stiff clayey rides. It's a long way from hero, though," 

 observed Jack. 



" How far ? " asked Sponge. 



" Good twenty miles," replied Jack. " It's sixteen from us ; it'll 

 be a good deal more from here." 



" His lordship will lay out overnight, then ? " observed Sponge. 



" Not he," replied Jack. " Takes better care of his sixpences 

 than that. Up in the dark, breakfast by candle-light, grope our 

 ways to the stable, and blunder along the deep lanes, and through 

 all the bye-roads in the country — get there somehow or another." 



" Keen hand ! " observed Sponge. 



" Mad ! " replied Jack. 



They then paid their mutual respects to the port. 



" He hunts there on Tuesdays," observed Jack, setting down his 

 glass, " so that he may have all Wednesday to get home in, and be 



