ush
him up!' was drowned in a medley of voices.

A loud, clear, shrill 'TALLY-HO, AWAY!' from the far side of the cover
caused all tongues to stop, and all hands to drop on the reins. Great was
the excitement! Each hunt was determined to take the shine out of the
other.

'Twang, twang, twang!' 'Tweet, tweet, tweet!' went his lordship's and
Frostyface's horns, as they came bounding over the gorse to the spot, with
the eager pack rushing at their horses' heels. Then as the hounds crossed
the line of scent, there was such an outburst of melody in cover, and such
gathering of reins and thrusting on of hats outside! The hounds dashed out
of cover as if somebody was kicking them. A man in scarlet was seen flying
through the fog, producing the usual hold-hardings. 'Hold hard, sir!' 'God
bless you, hold hard, sir!' with inquiries as to 'who the chap was that was
going to catch the fox.'

'It's Lumpleg!' exclaimed one of the Flat Hat men.

'No, it's not!' roared a Puffingtonite; 'Lumpleg's here.'

'Then it's Charley Slapp; he's always doing it,' rejoined the first
speaker. 'Most jealous man in the world.'

'Is he!' exclaimed Slapp, cantering past at his ease on a thoroughbred
grey, as if he could well afford to dispense with a start.

Reader! it was neither Lumpleg nor Slapp, nor any of the Puffington snobs,
or Flat Hat swells, or Puffington swells, or Flat Hat snobs. It was our old
friend Sponge; Monsieur Tonson again! Having arrived late, he had posted
himself, unseen, by the cover side, and the fox had broke close to him.
Unfortunately, he had headed him back, and a pretty kettle of fish was the
result. Not only had he headed him back, but the resolute chestnut, having
taken it into his head to run away, had snatched the bit between his teeth;
and carried him to the far side of a field ere Sponge managed to
manoere him round on a very liberal semi-circle, and face the now
flying sportsmen, who came hurrying on through the mist like a charge of
yeomanry after a salute. All was excitement, hurry-scurry, and
horse-hugging, with the usual spurring, elbowing, and exertion to get into
places, Mr. Fossick considering he had as much right to be before Mr. Fyle
as Mr. Fyle had to be before old Capon.

It apparently being all the same to the chestnut which way he went so long
as he had his run, he now bore Sponge back as quickly as he had carried him
away, and with yawning mouth, and head in the air, he dashed right at the
com