held up his hand, the usual
signal for Jack to 'sing out' and stop the field. Sponge saw the signal,
but, unfortunately, Hercules didn't; and tearing along with his head to the
ground, resolutely bore our friend not only past his lordship, but right on
to where the now stooping pack were barely feathering on the line.

Then Jack and his lordship sang out together.

'_Hold hard!_' screeched his lordship, in a dreadful state of excitement.

'HOLD HARD!' thundered Jack.

Sponge _was_ holding hard--hard enough to split the horse's jaws, but the
beast would go on, notwithstanding.

'By the powers, he's among 'em again!' shouted his lordship, as the
resolute beast, with his upturned head almost pulled round to Sponge's
knee, went star-gazing on like the blind man in Regent Street. 'Sing out.
Jack! sing out! for heaven's sake sing out,' shrieked his lordship,
shutting his eyes, as he added, 'or he'll kill every man jack of them.'

'NOW, SUR!' roared Jack, 'can't you steer that 'ere aggravatin'
quadruped of yours?'

'Oh, you pestilential son of a pontry-maid!' screeched his lordship, as
Brilliant ran yelping away from under Sponge's horse's feet. 'Sing out.
Jack! sing out!' gasped his lordship again.

'Oh, you scandalous, hypocritical, rusty-booted, numb-handed son of a
puffing corn-cutter, why don't you turn your attention to feeding hens,
cultivating cabbages, or making pantaloons for small folk, instead of
killing hounds in this wholesale way?' roared Jack; an inquiry that set him
foaming again.

'Oh, you unsightly, sanctified, idolatrous, Bagnigge-Wells coppersmith, you
think because I'm a lord, and can't swear or use coarse language, that you
may do what you like; rot you, sir, I'll present you with a testimonial!
I'll settle a hundred a year upon you if you'll quit the country. By the
powers, they're away again!' added his lordship, who, with one eye on
Sponge and the other on the pack, had been watching Frosty lifting them
over the bad scenting-ground, till, holding them on to a hedgerow beyond,
they struck the scent on good sound pasture, and went away at score, every
hound throwing his tongue, and filling the air with joyful melody. Away
they swept like a hurricane. 'F-o-o-rard!' was again the cry.

'Hang it. Jack,' exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, laying his hand on his
_double's_ shoulder, as they galloped alongside of each other, 'Hang it,
Jack, see if you can't sarve out this unrighteous, mahogany-booted,
ra