‘Dim all these foot people!’ exclaimed Mr. Bragg, in well-feigned disgust, as he came in view, and found all the Swillingford snobs, all the tinkers and tailors, and cobblers and poachers, and sheep-stealers, all the scowling, rotten-fustianed, baggy-pocketed scamps of the country ranged round the cover, some with dogs, some with guns, some with snares, and all with sticks or staffs.  ‘Well, I’m dimmed if ever I seed sich a—­’ The rest of the speech being lost amidst the exclamations of:  ’Ah! the hunds! the hunds! hoop! tally-o the hunds!’ and a general rush of the ruffians to meet them.

[Illustration:  CAPTAIN GUANO CAN’T GET HIS STIRRUPS THE RIGHT LENGTH]

Captain Guano, who had now come up, joined in the denunciation, inwardly congratulating himself on the probability that the first cover, at least, would be drawn blank.  Tom Washball, who was riding a very troublesome tail-foremost grey, also censured the proceeding.

And Mr. Puffington, still an ‘am_aa_izin’ instance of a pop’lar man,’ exclaimed, as he rode among them, ’Ah! my good fellows, I’d rather you’d come up and had some ale than disturbed the cover’; a hint that the wily ones immediately took, rushing up to the house, and availing themselves of the absence of the butler, who had followed the hounds, to take a couple of dozen of his best fiddle-handled forks while the footman was drawing them the ale.

The whips being duly signalled by Bragg to their points—­Brick to the north corner, Swipes to the south—­and the field being at length drawn up to his liking, Mr. Bragg looked at Mr. Puffington for his signal (the only piece of interference he allowed him); at a nod Mr. Bragg gave a wave of his cap, and the pack dashed into cover with a cry.

‘Yo-o-icks—­wind him!  Yo-o-icks—­pash him up!’ cheered Bragg, standing erect in his stirrups, eyeing the hounds spreading and sniffing about, now this way, now that—­now pushing through a thicket, now threading and smelling along a meuse.  ‘Yo-o-icks—­wind him!  Yo-o-icks—­pash him up!’ repeated he, cracking his whip, and moving slowly on.  He then varied the entertainment by whistling, in a sharp, shrill key, something like the chirp of a sparrow-hawk.

Thus the hounds rummaged and scrimmaged for some minutes.

‘No fox here,’ observed Captain Guano, bringing his horse alongside of Mr. Bragg’s.

‘Not so sure o’ that,’ replied Mr. Bragg, with a sneer, for he had a great contempt for the captain.  ‘Not so sure o’ that,’ replied he, eyeing Thunderer and Galloper feathering up the brook.

‘Hang these stirrups!’ exclaimed the captain, again attempting to adjust them; adding, ‘I declare I have no seat whatever in this saddle.’

‘Nor in any other,’ muttered Bragg.  ’Yo-icks, Galloper!  Yo-icks, Thunderer!  Ge-e-ntly, Warrior!’ continued he, cracking his whip, as Warrior pounced at a bunny.

The hounds were evidently on a scent, hardly strong enough to own, but sufficiently indicated by their feathering, and the rush of their comrades to the spot.