mh. sponge's sporting tour. 237 



the hill, to the village of Berrington Roothings, where, the fox having 

 been chased by a cur, the hounds were brought to a check on some 

 very bad scenting-ground, on the common, a little to the left of the 

 village, at the end of a quarter of an hour or so. The road having 

 been handy, the hard riders were there almost as soon as the soft 

 ones ; and there being no impediments on the common, they all 

 pushed boldly on among the now stooping hounds. 



" Hold hard, gentlemen ! " exclaimed Mr. Bragg, rising in his 

 stirrups, and telegraphing with his right arm. " Hold hard ! — -pray 

 do ! " added he, with little better success. " Dim it, gen'lemen, hold 

 hard ! " added he, as they still pressed upon the pack. " Have a 

 little regard for a huntsman's reputation," continued he. " Remem- 

 ber that it rises and falls with the sport he shows " — exhortations 

 that seemed to be pretty well lost upon the field, who began com- 

 paring notes as to their respective achievements, enlarging the 

 leaps and magnifying the distance into double what they had been. 

 Puffington and some of the fat ones sat gasping and mopping their 

 brows. 



Seeing there was not much chance of the hounds hitting off the 

 scent by themselves, Mr. Bragg began telegraphing with his arm to 

 the whippers-in, much in the manner of the captain of a Thames 

 steamer to the lad at the engine, and forthwith they drove the pack 

 on for our swell huntsman to make his cast. As good luck would 

 have it, Bragg crossed the line of the fox before he had got half 

 through his circle, and away the hounds dashed, at a pace and with a 

 cry that looked very like killing. Mr. Bragg was in ecstasies, and 

 rode in a manner very contrary to his wont. All again was life, 

 energy, and action; and even some who hoped there was an end of 

 the thing, and that they might go home and say, as usual, " that they 

 had had a very good run, but not killed," were induced to proceed. 



Away they all went as before. 



At the end of eighteen minutes more the hounds ran into their 

 fox in the little green valley below Mountnessing Wood, and Mr. 

 Bragg had him stretched on the green with the pack baying about 

 him, and the horses of the field-riders getting led about by the country 

 people, while the riders stood glorying in the splendour of the thing. 

 All had a direct interest in making it out as good as possible, and 

 Mr. Bragg was quite ready to appropriate as much praise as ever 

 they liked to give. 



" 'Ord dim him," said he, turning up the fox's grim head with his 

 foot, " but Mr. Bragg's an awkward customer for gen'lemen of your 

 description." 



11 You hunted him ivell ! " exclaimed Charley Slapp, who was 

 trumpeter general of the establishment. 



" Oh, sir," replied Bragg, with a smirk and a condescending bow, 

 " if Richard Bragg can't kill foxes, I don't know who can." 



