192 mr. sponge's sporting tour. 



gorse to the spot, with the eager pack rushing at their horses' heels. 

 Then, as the hounds crossed the line of scent, there was such an out- 

 burst of melody in cover, and such gathering of reins and thrusting 

 on of hats outside ! The hounds dashed out of cover as if somebody 

 was kicking them. A man in scarlet was seen flying through the 

 fog, producing the usual hold-hardings, " Hold hard sir ! " " God 

 bless you, hold hard sir ! " with inquiries as to " who the chap was 

 that was going to catch the fox." 



" It's Lumpleg ! " exclaimed one of the Flat Hat men. 



" No, it's not ! " roared a Pufnngtonite ; " Lumpleg's here." 



"Then it's Charley Slapp ; he's always doing it," rejoined the 

 first speaker. " Most jealous man in the world." 



" Is he ! " exclaimed Slapp, cantering past at his ease on a 

 thorough-bred grey, as if he could well afford to dispense with a start. 



Reader ! it was neither Lumpleg nor Slapp, nor any of the 

 Puffington snobs, or Flat Hat swells, or Pufimgton swells, or Flat 

 Hat snobs. It was our old friend Sponge ; Monsieur Tonson again ! 

 Having arrived late, he had posted himself, unseen, by the cover 

 side, and the fox had broke close to him. Unfortunately, he had 

 headed him back, and a pretty kettle of fish was the result. Not 

 only had he headed him back, but the resolute chestnut, having taken 

 it into his head to run away, had snatched the bit between his teeth, 

 and carried him to the far side of a field ere Sponge managed to 

 manoeuvre him round on a very liberal semicircle, and face the now 

 flying sportsmen, who came hurrying on through the mist like a 

 charge of yeomanry after a salute. All was excitement, hurry- 

 scurry, and horse-hugging, with the usual spurring, elbowing, and 

 exertion to get into places ; Mr. Fossick considering he had as much 

 right to be before Mr.' Fyle, as Mr. Fyle had to be before old 

 Capon. 



It apparently being all the same to the chestnut which way he went 

 so long as he had his run, he now bore Sponge back as quickly as he 

 had carried him away, and with y awning mouth, and head in the air, 

 he dashed right at the coming horsemen, charging Lord Scamperdale 

 full tilt as he was in the act of returning his horn to its case. Great 

 was the collision ! His lordship flew one way, his horse another, 

 his hat a third, his whip a fourth, his spectacles a fifth ; in fact, he 

 was scattered all over. In an instant he lay the centre of a circle, 

 kicking on his back like a lively turtle. 



" Oh ! I'm kilt ! " he roared, striking out as if he was swimming, 

 or rather floating. " I'm kilt ! " he repeated. " He's broken my 

 back, — he's broken my legs, — he's broken my ribs, — he's broken my 

 collar-bone, — he's knocked my right eye into the heel of my left 

 boot. Oh! will nobody catch him anil kill him? Will nobody do 

 for him ? Will you see an English nobleman knocked about like a 

 nine-pin?" added his lordship, scrambling up to go in pursuit of 



