'Most happy to see Mr.--ha--hum--haw--Jack--that's to say, Mr. Spraggon,'

replied Jawleyford, bowing very low, and laying his hand on his heart, as if quite overpowered at the idea of the honour.

'Then, that's a bargain. Jack,' said his lordship, looking knowingly round at his much disconcerted friend; 'you dine and stay all night at Jawleyford Court to-morrow! and mind,' added he, 'make yourself 'greeable to the girls--ladies, that's to say.'

'Couldn't your lordship arrange it so that we might have the pleasure of seeing you both on some future day?' asked Jawleyford, anxious to avert the Jack calamity. 'Say next week,' continued he; 'or suppose you meet at the Court?'

'Ha--he--hum. Meet at the Court,' mumbled his lordship--'meet at the Court--ha--he--ha--hum--no;--got no foxes.'

'Plenty of foxes, I a.s.sure you, my lord!' exclaimed Jawleyford. 'Plenty of foxes!' repeated he.

'We never find them, then, somehow,' observed his lordship, drily; 'at least, none but those three-legged beggars in the laurels at the back of the stables.'

'Ah! that will be the fault of the hounds,' replied Jawleyford; 'they don't take sufficient time to draw--run through the covers too quickly.'

'Fault of the hounds be hanged!' exclaimed Jack, who was the champion of the pack generally. 'There's not a more patient, painstaking pack in the world than his lordship's.'

'Ah--well--ah--never mind that,' replied his lordship, 'Jaw and you can settle that point over your wine to-morrow; meanwhile, if your friend Mr.

What's-his-name here, 'll get his horse,' continued his lordship, addressing himself to Jawleyford, but looking at Sponge, who was still on the piebald, 'we'll throw off.'

'Thank you, my lord,' replied Sponge; 'but I'll mount at the cover side.

Sponge not being inclined to let the Flat Hat Hunt field see the difference of opinion that occasionally existed between the gallant brown and himself.

'As you please,' rejoined his lordship, 'as you please,' jerking his head at Frostyface, who forthwith gave the office to the hounds; whereupon all was commotion. Away the cavalcade went, and in less than five minutes the late bustling village resumed its wonted quiet; the old man on sticks, two crones gossiping at a door, a rag-or-anything-else-gatherer going about with a donkey, and a parcel of dirty children tumbling about on the green, being all that remained 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' p.a.w.ned 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 patronizing 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 circ.u.mstances, 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, occasionally 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

Our hero having inveigled the brown under lee of an out-house 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, 'but a workman; a good 'un across country, in fact.' His lordship working his arms as if he was going to set-to himself.

'Oh, a first-rate man!--first-rate man!' replied Jawleyford; 'beat them all at Laverick Wells.'

'I thought so,' observed his lordship; adding to himself, 'then Jack shall take the conceit out of him.'

'Jack!' halloaed he over his shoulder to his friend, who was jogging a little behind; 'Jack!' repeated he, 'that Mr. Something--'

'_Sponge_!' observed Jawleyford, with an emphasis.

'That Mr. Sponge,' continued his lordship, 'is a stranger in the country: have the kindness to take _care_ of him. You know what I mean?'

'Just so,' replied Jack; 'I'll take care of him.'

'Most polite of your lordship, I'm sure,' said Jawleyford, with a low bow, and laying his hand on his breast. 'I can a.s.sure you I shall never forget the marked attention I have received from your lordship this day.'

'Thank you for nothing,' grunted his lordship to himself.

b.u.mp, b.u.mp; trot, trot; jabber, jabber, on they went as before.

They had now got to the cover, Tickler Gorse, and ere the last hors.e.m.e.n had reached the last angle of the long hill, Frostyface was rolling about on foot in the luxuriant evergreen; now wholly visible, now all but overhead, like a man buffeting among the waves of the sea. Save Frosty's cheery voice encouraging the invisible pack to 'wind him!' and 'rout him out!' an injunction that the shaking of the gorse showed they willingly obeyed, and an occasional exclamation from Jawleyford, of 'Beautiful! beautiful!--never saw better hounds!--can't be a finer pack!' not a sound disturbed the stillness of the scene. The waggoners on the road stopped their wains, the late noisy ploughmen leaned vacantly on their stilts, the turnip-pullers stood erect in air, and the shepherds' boys deserted the bleating flocks;--all was life and joy and liberty--'Liberty, equality, and foxhunt-ity!'

'Yo--i--cks, wind him! Y--o--o--icks! rout him out!' went Frosty; occasionally varying the entertainment with a loud crack of his heavy whip, when he could get upon a piece of rising ground to clear the thong.

'Tally-ho!' screamed Jawleyford, hoisting the b.u.mperkin Yeomanry cap in the air. 'Tally-ho!' repeated he, looking triumphantly round, as much as to say, 'What a clever boy am I!'

'Hold your noise!' roared Jack, who was posted a little below. 'Don't you see it's a hare?' added he, amidst the uproarious mirth of the company.

'I haven't your great staring specs on, or I should have seen he hadn't a tail,' retorted Jawleyford, nettled at the tone in which Jack had addressed him.

'Tail be--!' replied Jack, with a sneer; 'who but a tailor would call it a tail?'

Just then a light low squeak of a whimper was heard in the thickest part of the gorse, and Frostyface cheered the hound to the echo. 'Hoick to, Pillager! H--o--o--ick!' screamed he, in a long-drawn note, that thrilled through every frame, and set the horses a-capering.

Ere Frosty's prolonged screech was fairly finished, there was such an outburst of melody, and such a shaking of the gorse-bushes, as plainly showed there was no safety for Reynard in cover; and great was the bustle and commotion among the hors.e.m.e.n. Mr. Fossick lowered his hat-string and ran the fox's tooth through the b.u.t.tonhole; Fyle drew his girths; Washball took a long swig at his hunting-horn-shaped monkey; Major Mark and Mr.

Archer threw away their cigar ends; Mr. Bliss drew on his dogskin gloves; Mr. Wake rolled the thong of his whip round the stick, to be better able to encounter his puller; Mr. Sparks got a yokel to take up a link of his curb; George Smith and Joe Smith looked at their watches; Sandy McGregor, the factor, filled his great Scotch nose with Irish snuff, exclaiming, as he dismissed the balance from his fingers by a knock against his thigh, 'Oh, my mon, aw think this tod will gie us a ran!' while Blossomnose might be seen stealing gently forward, on the far side of a thick fence, for the double purpose of shirking Jawleyford and getting a good start.

In the midst of these and similar preparations for the fray, up went a whip's cap at the low end of the cover; and a volley of 'Tallyhos' burst from our friends, as the fox, whisking his white-tipped brush in the air, was seen stealing away over the gra.s.sy hill beyond. What a commotion was there! How pale some looked! How happy others!

'Sing out, Jack! for heaven's sake, sing out!' exclaimed Lord Scamperdale; an enthusiastic sportsman, always as eager for a run as if he had never seen one. 'Sing out. Jack; or, by Jove, they'll override 'em at starting!'

'HOLD HARD, gentlemen,' roared Jack, clapping spurs into his grey, or rather, into his lordship's grey, dashing in front, and drawing the horse across the road to stop the progression of the field. 'HOLD HARD, _one minute_!' repeated Jack, standing erect in his stirrups, and menacing them with his whip (a most formidable one). 'Whatever you do, _pray_ let them get away! _Pray_ don't spoil your own sport! Pray remember they're his lordship's hounds!--that they cost him five-and-twenty under'd--two thousand five under'd a year! And where, let me ax, with wheat down to nothing, would you get another, if he was to throw up?'

As Jack made this inquiry, he took a hurried glance at the now pouring-out pack; and seeing they were safe away, he wiped the foam from his mouth on his sleeve, dropped into his saddle, and, catching his horse short round by the head, clapped spurs into his sides, and galloped away, exclaiming:

'Now, ye tinkers, we'll all start fair!'

Then there was such a scrimmage! such jostling and elbowing among the jealous ones; such ramming and cramming among the eager ones; such pardon-begging among the polite ones; such spurting of ponies, such clambering of cart-horses. All were bent on going as far as they could--all except Jawleyford, who sat curvetting and prancing in the patronizing sort of way gentlemen do who encourage hounds for the sake of the manly spirit the sport engenders, and the advantage hunting is of in promoting our unrivalled breed of horses.

His lordship having slipped away, horn in hand, under pretence of blowing the hounds out of cover, as soon as he set Jack at the field, had now got a good start, and, horse well in hand, was sailing away in their wake.

'F-o-o-r-r-ard!' screamed Frostyface, coming up alongside of him, holding his horse--a magnificent thoroughbred bay--well by the head, and settling himself into his saddle as he went.

'F-o-r-rard!' screeched his lordship, thrusting his spectacles on to his nose.

'Tw.a.n.g--tw.a.n.g--tw.a.n.g,' went the huntsman's deep-sounding horn.

'T'weet--t'weet--t'weet,' went his lordship's shriller one.