334 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



ground meant, flew to him full ciy, drawing all their companions 

 after them. 



" I think he's away to the west," said Tom, in an undertone, 

 resting his hand on Watchorn's horse's shoulder; "back home" 

 added he, jerking his head with a knowing leer of his roguish 

 eye. 



"They're on him ! " exclaimed he after a pause, as the outburst 

 of melody proclaimed that the hounds had crossed his line. Then 

 there was such racing and striving among the fields to get up, and 

 such squeezing and crowding, and " Mind, my horse kicks ! " at 

 the little white hunting wicket leading into cover. " Knock down 

 the wall ! " exclaimed one. " Get out of the way ; I'll ride over 

 it ! " roared another. " We shall be here all day ! " vociferated a 

 third. " That's a header ! " cried another, as a clatter of stones 

 was followed by a pair of white breeches summerseting in the air 

 with a horse underneath. " It's Tom Sawbones, the doctor ! " 

 exclaimed one, "and he can mend himself." "By Jove ! but he's 

 killed ! " shrieked another. " Not a bit of it," added a third, as 

 the dead man rose and ran after his horse. " Let Mr. Bugles 

 through," cried Sir Harry, seeing his friend, or rather his wife's 

 friend, was fretting the Arab. 



Meanwhile, the melody of hounds increased, and each man, as 

 he got through the little gate, rose in his stirrups and hustled his 

 horse along the green ride to catch up those on before. The 

 plantation was about twenty acres, rather thick and briary at the 

 bottom ; and master Reynard, finding it was pretty safe, and, more- 

 over, having attempted to break just by where some chawbacons 

 were ploughing, had headed short back, so that, when the excited 

 field rushed through the parallel gate on the far side of the planta- 

 tion, expecting to see the pack streaming away over the downs, they 

 found most of the hounds with their heads in the air, some looking 

 for halloos, others watching their companions trying to carry the 

 scent over the fallow. 



Watchorn galloped up in the frantic state half-witted huntsmen 

 generally are, and one of the impromptu whips being in attendance, 

 got quickly round the hounds, and commenced a series of assaults 

 upon them that very soon sent them scuttling to Mr. Watchorn 

 for safety. If they had been at the hares again, or even worrying 

 sheep, he could not have rated or flogged more severely. 



" Marksman ! Marksman ! ough, ye old Divil, get to him ! " 

 roared the whip, aiming a stinging cut with his heavy knotty- 

 pointed whip, at a venerable sage who still snuffed down a furrow 

 to satisfy himself the fox was not on before he returned to cover, — 

 an exertion that overbalanced the whip, and would have landed 

 him on the ground, had not he caught by the spur in the old mare's 

 flank. Then he went on scrambling and rating after Marksman, 



