mr. sponge's SPORTING TOUR. 419 



measure their lengths on the rushy pasture beyond. Still there are 

 ten left, and nobody ever reckoned upon these getting to the far end. 



"Master wins, for a 'undrd ! " exclaims Leather, as getting into 

 the third field, Mr. Sponge takes a decided lead ; and Lucy, 

 encouraged by the sound, looks up, and sees her " white jacket " 

 throwing the dry fallow in the faces of the field. 



" Oh, how I hope he ivill ! " exclaims she, clasping her hands, 

 with upturned eyes ; but when she ventures on another look, she sees 

 old Spraggon drawing upon him, Hangallows's flaming red jacket not 

 far off, and several others nearer than she liked. Still the tail was 

 beginning to form. Another fence, and that a big one, draws it out. 

 A striped jacket is down, and the horse, after a vain effort to rise, 

 sinks lifeless on the ground. On they go, all the same ! 



Loud yells of exciting betting burst from the spectators, and 

 Buckram gets well on for the cross. 



There are now five in front — Sponge, Spraggon, Hangallows, 

 Boville, and another ; and already the pace begins to tell. It wasn't 

 possible to run it at the rate they started. Spraggon makes a 

 desperate effort to get the lead ; and Sponge, seeing Boville handy, 

 pulls his horse, and lets the light-weight make play over a rough, 

 heavy fallow with the chestnut. Jack spurs and flogs, and grins 

 and foams at the mouth. Thus they get half round the oval 

 course. They are now directly in front of the hill, and the spectators 

 gaze with intense anxiety ; — now vociferating the name of this horse, 

 now of that; now shouting " Red jacket ! " now " White ! " while the 

 blind fiddler perseveres with the old melody of — " The Devil among 

 the Tailors." 



" Now they come to the brook ! " exclaims Leather, who has been 

 over the ground ; and as he speaks, Lucy distinctly sees Mr. Sponge's 

 gather and effort to clear it ; and — oh, horror ! — the horse falls — -he's 

 down — no, he's up ! — and her lover's in his seat again ; and she 

 flatters herself it was her sherry that saved him. Splash ! — a horse 

 and rider duck under ; three get over ; two go in ; now another clears 

 it, and the rest turn tail. 



What splashing and screaming, and whipping and spurring, and 

 how hopeless the chance of any of them to recover their lost ground. 

 The race is now clearly between five. Now for the wall ! It's five 

 feet high, built of heavy blocks, and strong in the staked-out part, 

 As he nears it, Jack sits well back, getting Daddy Longlegs well by 

 the head, and giving him a refresher with the whip. It is Jack's last 

 move ! His horse comes, neck and croup, over, rolling Jack up like 

 a ball of worsted on the far side. At the same moment, Multnm-in- 

 Parvo goes at it full tilt; and, not rising an inch, sends Captain Bo- 

 ville flying one way, his saddle another, himself a third, and the stones 

 all ways. Mr. Sponge then slips through, closely followed by Han- 

 gallows and a jockey in yellow, with a tail of three after them. They 



