42 mr. sponge's sporting tour. 



" "Which ? " inquired Sponge, looking about the thinly-peopled 

 station. 



" There," replied Leather, " those by the book-stall. That be 

 Mr. Waffles," continued he, giving his master a touch in the ribs as 

 he jerked his portmanteau into a fly, " that be Mr. Waffles" re- 

 peated he, with a knowing leer. 



11 "Which ? " inquired Mr. Sponge eagerly. 



" The gent in the green wide-awake 'at, and big-button'd over- 

 coat," replied Leather, " jest now a speakin' to the youth in the tweed 

 and all tweed ; that be Mr. Caingey Thornton, as big a little black- 

 guard as any in the place — lives upon Waffles, and yet never has a 

 good word to say for him, no, nor for no one else — and yet to 'ear the 

 little devil a talkin' to him, you'd really fancy he believ'd there 

 wasn't not never sich another man i' the world as "Waffles — not an- 

 other sich rider — not another sich racket-player — not another sich 

 pigeon-shooter — not another sich fine chap altogether." 



" Has Thornton any horses ? " asked Sponge. 



" Not he," replied Leather, " not he, nor the gen'lman next him 

 nouther — he, in the pilot coat, with the whip sticking out of the 

 pocket, nor the one in the coffee-coloured 'at, nor none on 'em in 

 fact; " adding, "they all live on Squire "Waffles — breakfast with him 

 — dine with him — drink with him — smoke with hiln — and if any on 

 'em 'appen to 'ave an 'orse, why they sell to him, and so ride for 

 nothin' themselves." 



" A convenient sort of gentleman," observed Mr. Sponge, thinking 

 he, too, might accommodate him. 



The fly-man now touched his hat, indicative of a wish to be off, 

 having a fare waiting elsewhere. Mr. Sponge directed him to pro- 

 ceed to the Brunswick Hotel, while, accompanied by Leather, he 

 proceeded on foot to the stables. 



Mr. Leather, of course, had the valuable stud under lock and 

 key, with every crevice and air-hole well stuffed with straw, as if 

 they had been the most valuable horses in the world. Having produced 

 the ring-key from his pocket, Mr. Loather opened the door, and 

 having got his master in, speedily closed it, lest a breath of fresh air 

 might intrude. Having lighted a lucifer, he turned on the gas, and 

 exhibited the blooming-coated horses, well littered in straw, showing 

 that he was not the man to pay four-and-twenty shillings a week for 

 nothing. Mr. Sponge stood eyeing them for some seconds with evi- 

 dent approbation. 



" If any one asks you about the horses, you can say they are 

 mine, you know," at length observed he, casually, with an emphasis 

 on the mine. 



" In course" replied Leather. 



" I mean, you needn't say anything about their being jobs" 

 observed Sponge, fearing Leather mightn't exactly " take." 



