An accommodating lane soon presented itself, along which they all pounded, with the hounds running parallel through the enclosures on the left; Sponge sending such volleys of pebbles and mud in his rear as made it advisable to keep a good way behind him.  The line was now apparently for Firlingham Woods; but on nearing the thatched cottage on Gasper Heath, the fox, most likely being headed, had turned short to the right; and the chase now lay over Sheeplow Water meadows, and so on to Bolsover brick-fields, when the pack again changed from hunting to racing, and the pace for a time was severe.  His lordship having got his second horse at the turn, was ready for the tussle, and plied away vigorously, riding, as usual, with all his heart, with all his mind, with all his soul, and with all his strength; while Jack, still on the grey, came plodding diligently along in the rear, saving his horse as much as he could.  His lordship charged a stiff flight of rails in the brick-fields; while Jack, thinking to save his, rode at a weak place in the fence, a little higher up, and in an instant was soused overhead in a clay-hole.

‘Duck under, Jack! duck under!’ screamed his lordship, as Jack’s head rose to the surface.  ‘Duck under! you’ll have it full directly!’ added he, eyeing Sponge and the rest coming up.

Sponge, however, saw the splash, and turning a little lower down, landed safe on sound ground; while poor Blossomnose, who was next, went floundering overhead also.  But the pace was too good to stop to fish them out.

‘Dash it,’ said Sponge, looking at them splashing about, ’but that was a near go for me!’

Jack being thus disposed of, Sponge, with increased confidence, rose in his stirrups, easing the redoubtable Hercules; and patting him on the shoulder, at the same time that he gave him the gentlest possible touch of the spur, exclaimed, ‘By the powers, we’ll show these old Flat Hats the trick!’ He then commenced humming: 

    Mister Sponge, the raspers taking,
    Sets the junkers’ nerves a shaking;

and riding cheerfully on, he at length found himself on the confines of a wild rough-looking moor, with an undulating range of hills in the distance.

Frostyface and Lord Scamperdale here for the first time diverged from the line the hounds were running, and made for the neck of a smooth, flat, rather inviting-looking piece of ground, instead of crossing it, Sponge, thinking to get a niche, rode to it; and the ‘deeper and deeper still’ sort of flounder his horse made soon let him know that he was in a bog.  The impetuous Hercules rushed and reared onwards as if to clear the wide expanse; and alighting still lower, shot Sponge right overhead in the middle.

[Illustration]

‘That’s cooked your goose!’ exclaimed his lordship, eyeing Sponge and his horse floundering about in the black porridge-like mess.

‘Catch my horse!’ hallooed Sponge to the first whip, who came galloping up as Hercules was breasting his way out again.