418 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



" Clear the way, then ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters, putting her 

 horse back, her bright eyes flashing as she spoke, She took him 

 back as far as Mr. Sponge had done, touched him with the whip, 

 and in an instant she was high in the air, landing safely on the 

 far side. 



" Hoo-ray ! " exclaimed Captains Quod and Outitfat, who now 

 came panting up. 



" Now, Mr. Watchorn ! " cried Captain Seedeybuek ; ridding, 

 " you're a huntsman ! " 



" Yooi over, Prosperous ! Yooi over, Buster ! " cheered Watchorn, 

 still pretending anxiety about his hounds. 



" Let me have a shy," squeaked George Cheek, backing his 

 giralFe, as he had seen Mr. Sponge and Miss Glitters do. 



George took his screw by the head, and, giving him a hearty 

 rib-roasting with his whip, run him full tilt at the pailings, and 

 carried away half a rood. 



" Hoo-ray ! " cried the liberated field. 



" / knew how it would be," exclaimed Mr. Watchorn, in well- 

 feigned disgust as he rode through the gap ; adding, " rcw-founded 

 young waggabone ! Deserves to be well c/w.sfc-tised for breakin' 

 people's palin's in that way — lettin' in all the rubbishin' tail." 



The scene then changed. In lieu of the green, though hard, 

 sward of the undulating park, our friends now found themselves 

 on large frozen fallows, upon whose uneven surface the heaviest 

 horses made no impression, while the shuffling rats of ponies toiled 

 and floundered about, almost receding in their progress. Mr. 

 Sponge was just topping the fence out of the first one, and Miss 

 Glitters was gathering her horse to ride at it, as Watchorn and Co. 

 emerged from the park. Rounding the turnip-hill, beyond, the 

 leading hounds were racing with a breast high scent, followed by 

 the pack in long-drawn file. 



" What a mess ! " said Watchorn to himself, shading the sim 

 from his eyes with his hand ; when, remembering his rdle, he 

 exclaimed, " Y-o-o-n-der they go ! " as if in ecstasies at the sight. 

 Seeing a gate at the bottom of the field, he got his horse by the 

 head, and rattled him across the fallow, blowing his horn more in 

 hopes of stopping the pack than with a view of bringing up the 

 tail-hounds. He might have saved his breath, for the music of 

 the pack completely drowned the noise of the horn. " Dash it ! " 

 said he, thumping the broad end against his thigh ; " I wish I was 

 quietly back in my parlour. Hold up, horse I " roared he, as 

 Harkaway nearly came on his haunches in pulling up at the gate. 

 " I know who's not Cardinal Wiseman," continued he, stooping to 

 open it. 



The gate was fast, and he had to alight and lift it off its hinges. 

 Just as he had done so, and had got it sufficiently open for a 



