Mr. Leather’s fear of the want of clothing for the valuable hunter proved wholly groundless, for each groom having come with a plentiful supply for his own horse, all the inn stock was at the service of the stranger.  The stable, to be sure, was not quite so good as might be desired, but it was warm and water-tight, and the corn was far from bad.  Altogether, Mr. Sponge thought he would do very well, and, having seen to his horse, proceeded to choose between beef-steaks and mutton chops for his own entertainment, and with the aid of the old country paper and some very questionable port, he passed the evening in anticipation of the sports of the morrow.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE CROSS-ROADS AT DALLINGTON BURN

[Illustration]

When his lordship and Jack mounted their hacks in the morning to go to the cross-roads at Dallington Burn, it was so dark that they could not see whether they were on bays or browns.  It was a dull, murky day, with heavy spongy clouds overhead.

There had been a great deal of rain in the night, and the horses poached and squashed as they went.  Our sportsmen, however, were prepared as well for what had fallen as for what might come; for they were encased in enormously thick boots, with baggy overalls, and coats and waistcoats of the stoutest and most abundant order.  They had each a sack of a mackintosh strapped on to their saddle fronts.  Thus they went blobbing and groping their way along, varying the monotony of the journey by an occasional spurt of muddy water up into their faces, or the more nerve-trying noise of a floundering stumble over a heap of stones by the roadside.  The country people stared with astonishment as they passed, and the muggers and tinkers, who were withdrawing their horses from the farmers’ fields, stood trembling, lest they might be the ‘pollis’ coming after them.

‘I think it’ll be a fine day,’ observed his lordship, after they had bumped for some time in silence without its getting much lighter.  ’I think it will be a fine day,’ he said, taking his chin out of his great puddingy-spotted neckcloth, and turning his spectacled face up to the clouds.

‘The want of light is its chief fault,’ observed Jack, adding, ’it’s deuced dark!’

‘Ah, it’ll get better of that,’ observed his lordship.  ’It’s not much after eight yet,’ he added, staring at his watch, and with difficulty making out that it was half-past.  ‘Days take off terribly about this time of year,’ he observed; ’I’ve seen about Christmas when it has never been rightly light all day long.’

They then floundered on again for some time further as before.

‘Shouldn’t wonder if we have a large field,’ at length observed Jack, bringing his hack alongside his lordship’s.

’Shouldn’t wonder if Puff himself was to come—­all over brooches and rings as usual,’ replied his lordship.