MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 195 



ten, with a full muster of horsemen and a fog making unwonted 

 dulness of the scene — the old sign-pole being the most conspicuous 

 object of the whole. 



Hark ! what a clamour there is about it. It's like a betting- 



post at Newmarket. How loud the people talk ! what's the news 

 Queen Ann dead, or is there another French Ee volution, or a 

 fixed duty on corn ? Eeader, Mr. Puffington's hounds have had 

 a run, and the Flat Hat men are disputing it. 



" Nothing of the sort ! nothing of the sort !" exclaims Fossick, 

 " I know every yard of the country, and you can't make more nor 

 eight of it anyhow, if eight." 



" Well, but I've measured it on the map," replied the speaker 

 (Charley Slapp himself), " and it's thirteen, if it's a yard." 



" Then the country's grown bigger since my day," rejoins 

 Fossick, "for I was dropped at Stubgrove, which is within a mile 

 of where you found, and I've walked, and I've ridden, and I've 

 driven every yard of the distance, and you can't make it more than 

 eight, if it's as much. Can you, Capon ? " exclaimed Fossick, 

 appealing to another of the " flat brims," whose luminous face 

 now shone through the fog. 



" No," replied Capon ; adding, " not so much, I should say." 



Just then up trotted Frostyface with the hounds. 



" Good morning, Frosty ! good morning ! " exclaim half-a- 

 dozen voices, that it would be difficult to appropriate from the 

 denseness of the fog. Frosty and the whips make a general 

 salute with their caps. 



"Well, Frosty, I suppose you've heard what a run we had 

 yesterday ? " exclaims Charley Slapp, as soon as Frosty and the 

 hounds are settled. 



" Had they, sir — had they ? " replies Frosty, with a slight 

 touch of his cap and a sneer. " Glad to hear it, sir — glad to hear 

 it. Hope they killed, sir — hope they killed?" with a still slighter 

 touch of the cap. 



" Killed, aye ? — killed in the open just below Crabstone 

 Green, in your country ; " adding, " It was one of your foxes I 

 believe." 



"Glad of it, sir— glad of it, sir," replies Frosty. "They 

 wanted blood sadly — they wanted blood sadly. Quite welcome to 

 one of our foxes, sir — quite welcome. That's a brace and a 'alf 

 they've killed." 



" Brace and a ha-r-r-f ! " drawls Slapp, in well-feigned disgust ; 

 " brace and a ha-r-r-f ! — why, it makes them ten brace, and six 

 run to ground." 



"Oh, don't tell 7w«?,",retorts Frosty, with a shake of disgust ; "don't 

 tell me. I knows better — I knows better. They'd only killed 

 a brace since they began hunting up to yesterday. The rest were 



