MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 317 



" "We shall be late," observed Sponge, inwardly denouncing 

 " Obin and Ichard." 



" Shouldn't wonder," replied Jog, adding, with a puff into his 

 frill, " consequence of making me sick, you see." 



" My dear fellow, if you don't know your own stomach by this 

 time, you did ought to do," replied Mr. Sponge. 



" I (puff) flatter myself I do (wheeze) my own stomach," replied 

 Jogglebury, tartly. 



They then rumbled on for some time in silence. 



When they came within sight of Snobston Green, the coast was 

 clear. Not a red coat, or hunting indication of any sort, was to 

 be seen. 



" I told you so (puff) ! " growled Jog, blowing full into his frill, 

 and pulling up short. 



" They be gone to Hackberry Dean," said an old man, breaking 

 stones by the road-side. 



" Hackberry Dean (puff) — Hackberry Dean (wheeze) ! " replied 

 Jog, thoughtfully ; " then we must (puff) by Tollarton Mill, and 

 through the (wheeze) village to Stewley ? " 



" Y-e-a-z," drawled the man. 



Jog then drove on a few paces, and turned up a lane to the left, 

 whose finger-post directed the road " to Tollarton." He seemed 

 less disconcerted than Sponge, who kept inwardly anathematising, 

 not only "Obin and Ichard," but " Diddle, diddle, doubt," — " Bah, 

 bah, black sheep," — the whole tribe of nursery ballads, in short. 



The fact was, Jog wanted to be into Hackberry Dean, which 

 was full of fine, straight hollies, fit either for gibbeys or whip- 

 sticks, and the hounds being there gave him the entree. It was 

 for helping himself there, without this excuse, that he had been 

 " county courted," and he did not care to renew his acquaintance 

 with the judge. He now whipped and jagged the old nag, as if 

 intent on catching the hounds. Mr. Sponge liberated his whip 

 from the apron-straps, and lent a hand when Jog began to flag. 

 So they rattled and jingled away at an amended pace. Still it 

 seemed to Mr. Sponge as if they would never get there. Having 

 passed through Tollarton, and cleared the village of Stewley, Mr. 

 Sponge strained his eyes in every direction where there was a bit 

 of wood, in hopes of seeing something of the hounds. Meanwhile 

 Jog was shuffling his little axe from below the cushion of the 

 driviug-seat into the pocket of his great coat. All of a sudden he 

 pulled up, as they were passing a bank of wood (Hackberry Dean), 

 and handing the reins to his companion, said, 



" Just lay hold for a minute whilst I (puff) out." 



" "What's happened ? " asked Sponge. " Not sick again, are you ? ' 



" No (puff), not exactly (wheeze) sick, but I want to be out all 

 the (puff) same." 



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