314 MR. sponge's sporting tour. 



pair of "white breeches suminersetirig in the air with a horse under- 

 neath. " It's Tom Sawbones, the doctor ! " exclaimed one, " and he 

 can mend himself." " By Jove ! but he's killed ! " shrieked another. 

 " Not a bit of it," added a third, as the dead man rose and ran after 

 his horse. " Let Mr. Bugles through," cried Sir Harry, seeing his 

 friend, or rather his wife's friend, was fretting the Arab. 



Meanwhile the melody of hounds increased, and each man, as he 

 got through the little gate, rose in his stirrups and hustled his horse 

 along the green ride to catch up those on before. The plantation 

 was about twenty acres, rather thick and briary at the bottom ; and 

 master Reynard, finding it was pretty safe, and, moreover, having at- 

 tempted to break just by where some chawbacons were ploughing, 

 had headed short back, so that when the excited field rushed through 

 the parallel gate on the far side of the plantation, expecting to see 

 the pack streaming away over the downs, they found most of the 

 hounds with their heads in the air, some looking for halloos, others 

 watching their companions trying to carry the scent over the fallow. 



"Watchorn galloped up in the frantic state half-witted huntsmen 

 generally are, and one of the impromptu whips being in attendance, 

 got quickly round the hounds, and commenced a series of assaults 

 upon them that very soon sent them scuttling to Mr. Watchorn for 

 safety. If they had been at the hares again, or even worrying sheep, 

 he could not have rated or flogged more severely. 



" Marksman ! Marksman ! oh, you old Divil, get to him ! " 

 roared the whip, aiming a stinging cut with his heavy knotty-pointed 

 whip, at a venerable sage who still snuffed down a furrow to satisfy 

 himself the fox was not on before he returned to cover, — an exertion 

 that overbalanced the whip, and would have landed him on the ground, 

 had not he caught by the spur in the old mare's flank. Then he went 

 on scrambling and rating after Marksman, the field exclaiming, as 

 the Edmonton people did, by Johnny Gilpin, 



He's on ! no, he's off, ho hangs by the inane ! 



At last he got shuifled back into the saddle, and the cry of hounds 

 in cover attracting the outsiders back, the scene quickly changed, and 

 the horsemen were again overhead in wood. They now swept up the 

 grass ride to the exposed part of the higher ground, the trees gradu- 

 ally diminishing in size, till, on reaching the top they did not come 

 much above a horse's shoulder. This point commanded a fine view 

 over the adjacent country. Behind was the riuh vale of Dairylow, 

 with its villages and spires, and trees and inclosures, while in front 

 was nothing but the undulating, wide-stretching downs, reaching to 

 the soft grey hills in the distance. There was not, however, much 

 time for contemplating scenery ; for Wily Tom, who had stolen to 

 this point immediately the hounds took up the scent, now viewed the 

 fox stealing over a gap in the wall, and, the field catching sight, there 



