‘Very true,’ whispered Jack to Pacey, with a feel of the elbow in his ribs, adding, in an undertone, ’the beggar doesn’t think I’ve got him in spite of him, though.’

‘The horse,’ Mr. Sponge continued, ’was an undeniable good ’un, and he wished Mr. Pacey joy of his bargain.’

This venture having been so successful, others attempted similar means, appointing Mr. Spraggon the arbitrator.  Captain Guano challenged Mr. Fogo’s phaeton, while Mr. Fogo retaliated upon the captain’s chestnut horse; but the captain did not hold money to the award.  Blossomnose challenged Mr. Miller’s pig; but the latter could not be induced to claim anything of the worthy rector’s for Mr. Spraggon to exercise his appraising talents upon.  After an evening of much noise and confusion, the wine-heated party at last broke up—­the staying company retiring to their couches, and the outlying ones finding their ways home as best they could.

CHAPTER XLII

THE MORNING’S REFLECTIONS

When young Pacey awoke in the morning he had a very bad headache, and his temples throbbed as if the veins would burst their bounds.  The first thing that recalled the actual position of affairs to his mind was feeling under the pillow for his watch:  a fruitless search that ended in recalling something of the overnight’s proceedings.

Pacey liked a cheap flash, and when elated with wine might be betrayed into indiscretions that his soberer moments were proof against.  Indeed, among youths of his own age he was reckoned rather a sharp hand; and it was the vanity of associating with men, and wishing to appear a match for them, that occasionally brought him into trouble.  In a general way, he was a very cautious hand.

He now lay tumbling and tossing about in bed, and little by little he laid together the outline of the evening’s proceedings, beginning with his challenging Mr. Sponge’s chestnut, and ending with the resignation of his watch and chain.  He thought he was wrong to do anything of the sort.  He didn’t want the horse, not he.  What should he do with him? he had one more than he wanted as it was.  Then, paying for him seventy sovereigns! confound it, it would be very inconvenient—­most inconvenient—­indeed, he couldn’t do it, so there was an end of it.  The facilities of carrying out after-dinner transactions frequently vanish with the morning’s sun.  So it was with Mr. Pacey.  Then he began to think how to get out of it.  Should he tell Mr. Sponge candidly the state of his finances, and trust to his generosity for letting him off?  Was Mr. Sponge a likely man to do it?  He thought he was.  But, then, would he blab?  He thought he would, and that would blow him among those by whom he wished to be thought knowing, a man not to be done.  Altogether he was very much perplexed:  seventy pounds was a vast of money; and then there was his watch gone, too! a hundred and more altogether.  He must have been drunk to do it—­very drunk, he should say; and then he began to think whether he had not better treat it as an after-dinner frolic, and pretend to forget all about it.  That seemed feasible.