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 grassy 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.