MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 131 



on the scene. All the able-bodied men had followed the hounds. 

 Why the hounds had ever climbed the long hill seemed a mystery, 

 seeing that they returned the way they came. 



Jawleyford, though sore disconcerted at having "Jack" pawned 

 upon him, stuck to my lord, and rode on his right with the air of a 

 general. He felt he was doing his duty as an Englishman in thus 

 patronising the hounds — encouraging a manly spirit of independence, 

 and promoting our unrivalled breed of horses. The post-boy trot at 

 which hounds travel, to be sure, is not well adapted for dignity ; but 

 Jawleyford nourished and vapoured as well as he could under the 

 circumstances, and considering they were going down hill. Lord 

 Scamperdale rode along, laughing in his sleeve at the idea of the 

 pleasant evening Jack and Jawleyford would have together, occa- 

 sionally complimenting Jawleyford on the cut and condition of his 

 horse, and advising him to be careful of the switching raspers with 

 which the country abounded, and which might be fatal to his nice 

 nutmeg-coloured trousers. The rest of the " field " followed, the fall 

 of the ground enabling them to see " how thick Jawleyford was with 

 my lord." Old Blossomnose, who, we should observe, had slipped 

 away unperceived on Jawleyford's arrival, took a bird's-eye view 

 from the rear. Naughty Blossom was riding the horse that ought to 

 have gone in the " chay " to Jawleyford Court. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



THE GREAT RUN. 



Ouu hero having inveigled the brown under lee of an outhouse as the 

 field moved along, was fortunate enough to achieve the saddle without 

 disclosing the secrets of the stable ; and as he rejoined the throng in 

 all the pride of shape, action, and condition, even the top-sawyers, 

 Fossick, Fyle, Bliss, and others, admitted that Hercules was not a 

 bad-like horse ; while the humbler-minded ones eyed Sponge with a 

 mixture of awe and envy, thinking what a fine trade literature must 

 be to stand such a horse. 



" Is your friend, What's-his-name, a workman ? " asked Lord 

 Scamperdale, nodding towards Sponge as he trotted Hercules gently 

 past on the turf by the side of the road along which they were riding. 



" Oh, no," replied Jawleyford tartly. " Oh, no — gentleman ; 

 man of property — 



" I did not mean was he a mechanic," explained his lordship drily, 



