342 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



" None of them here ! " hiccuped Sir Harry, who had now got 

 reeled to the window. " None of them here," repeated he, staring 

 vacantly at the uneven pack. "Oh (hiccup), I'll tell you what 

 do — (hiccup) them into a barn or a stable, or a (hiccup) of 

 any sort, and we'll send for them when we want to (hiccup) 

 again." 



" Then just you call them to you," replied Sponge, thinking 

 they would go to their master. " Just you call them," repeated 

 he, " and I'll put them to you." 



" (Hiccup) call to them ? " replied Sir Harry ; " I can't 

 (hiccup)." 



" Oh, yes ! " rejoined Mr. Sponge ; " call one or two by their 

 names, and the rest will follow." 



" Names ! (hiccup) I don't know any of their nasty names," 

 replied Sir Harry, staring wildly. 



" Towler ! Towler ! Towler ! here, good dog — hoop ! — here's 

 your liquor ! " cried brother Bob Spangles, holding the smoking 

 tumbler of brandy-and-water out of the window, as if to tempt 

 any hound that chose to answer to the name of Towler. 



There didn't seem to be a Towler in the pack ; at least, none of 

 them qualified for the brandy-and-water. 



" Oh, I'll (hiccup) you what we'll do," exclaimed Sir Harry ; 

 "I'll (hiccup) you what we'll do. We'll just give, them a (hiccup) 

 kick a-piece and send them (hiccuping) home," Sir Harry, reeling 

 back into the room to the black horse-hair sofa, where his whip 

 was. 



He presently appeared at the door, and, going into the midst of 

 the hounds, commenced laying about him, rating, and cutting, 

 and kicking, and shouting. 



" Geete away home with ye, ye brutes ; what are you all 

 (hiccup)ing here, about ? Ah! cut off his tail!" cried he, 

 staggering after a venerable blear-eyed sage, who dropped his stern 

 and took off. 



"Be off! Does your mother know you're out?" cried Bob 

 Spangles, out of the window, to old Marksman, who stood 

 Wondering what to do. 

 The old hound took the hint also. 



" Now, then, old feller," cried Sir Harry, staggering up to Mr. 

 Sponge, who still sat on his horse, in mute astonishment at Sir 

 Harry's mode of dealing with his hounds. " Now, then, old 

 feller," said he, seizing Mr. Sponge by the hand, " get rid of your 

 quadruped, and (hiccup) in, and make yourself 'o'er all the 

 (hiccups) of life victorious,' as Bob Spangles says, when he 

 (hiccups) it neat. This is old (hiccup) Peastraw's, a (hiccup) 

 tenant of mine, and he'll be most (hiccup) to see you." 



" But what must I do with my horse ? " asked Mr. Sponge, 



