‘Hoop!’ hallooed Mr. Sponge, taking off his hat, as Frantic hit off the scent to the right, and Galloper, and Melody, and all the rest scored to cry.

‘Oh, you confounded brown-bouted beggar!’ exclaimed Mr. Watchorn, returning his horn to its case, and eyeing Mr. Sponge and Miss Glitters sailing away with the again breast-high-scent pack.  ‘Oh, you exorbitant usurer!’ continued he, gathering his horse to skate after them.  ’Well now, that’s the most disgraceful proceedin’ I ever saw in the whole course of my life.  Hang me, if I’ll stand such work!  Dash me, but I’ll ’quaint the Queen!—­I’ll tell Sir George Grey!  I’ll write to Mr. Walpole!  Fo-orrard! fo-orrard!’ hallooed he, as Bob Spangles and Bouncey popped upon him unexpectedly from behind, exclaiming with well-feigned glee, as he pointed to the streaming pack with his whip, ’’Ord dash it, but we’re in for a good thing!’

Little Bouncey’s horse was still yawning and star-gazing, and Bouncey, being quite unequal to riding him and well-nigh exhausted, ‘downed’ him against a rubbing-post in the middle of a field, making a ‘cannon’ with his own and his horse’s head, and was immediately the centre of attraction for the panting tail.  Bouncey got near a pint of sherry from among them before he recovered from the shock.  So anxious were they about him, that not one of them thought of resuming the chase.  Even the lagging whips couldn’t leave him.  George Cheek was presently hors de combat in a hedge, and Watchorn seeing him ‘see-sawing,’ exclaimed, as he slipped through a gate: 

’I’ll send your mar to you, you young ‘umbug.’

Watchorn would gladly have stopped too, for the fumes of the champagne were dead within him, and the riding was becoming every minute more dangerous.  He trotted on, hoping each jump of brown boots would be the last, and inwardly wishing the wearer at the devil.  Thus he passed through a considerable extent of country, over Harrowdale Lordship, or reputed Lordship, past Roundington Tower, down Sloppyside Banks, and on to Cheeseington Green; the severity of his affliction being alone mitigated by the intervention of accommodating roads and lines of field gates.  These, however, Mr. Sponge generally declined, and went crashing on, now over high places, now over low, just as they came in his way, closely followed by the fair Lucy Glitters.

‘Well, I never see’d sich a man as that!’ exclaimed Watchorn, eyeing Mr. Sponge clearing a stiff flight of rails, with a gap near at hand.  ’Nor woman nouther!’ added he, as Miss Glitters did the like.  ’Well, I’m dashed if it arn’t dangerous!’ continued he, thumping his hand against his thick thigh, as the white nearly slipped upon landing.  ’F-o-r-r-ard! for-rard! hoop!’ screeched he, as he saw Miss Glitters looking back to see where he was.  ‘F-o-r-rard! for-rard!’ repeated he; adding, in apparent delight, ’My eyes, but we’re in for a stinger!  Hold up, horse!’ roared he, as his horse now