little village of Berrington Roothings below. Here the hounds came
to a check, but Mr. Bragg, who had ridden gallantly on his
favourite bay, as fine an animal as ever went, though somewhat
past work of mouth, was well up with his hounds, and with a
'gentle rantipole!' and a single wave of his arm, proceeded to
make one of those scientific rests for which this eminent huntsman
is so justly celebrated. Hitting off the scent like a coachman,
they went away again at score, and passing by Moorlinch Farm
buildings, and threading the strip of plantation by Bexley Burn,
he crossed Silverbury Green, leaving Longford Hutch to the right,
and passing straight on by the gibbet at Harpen. Here, then, the
gallant pack, breaking from scent to view, ran into their box in
the open close upon Mountnessing Wood, evidently his point from
the first, and into which a few more strides would have carried
him. It was as fine a run as ever was seen, and the grunting of
the hounds was the admiration of all who heard it. The distance
could not have been less than ten miles as a cow goes. The justly
popular owner of this most celebrated pack, though riding good
fourteen stones, led the Walters on his famous chestnut horse
Tappy Lappey. After this truly brilliant affair, Mr. Puffington,
like a thorough sportsman, and one who never thrashes his hounds
unnecessarily--unlike some masters who never know when to leave
off--returned to Hanby House, where a distinguished party of
noblemen and gentlemen partook of his splendid hospitality.

And the considerate Bloomer added of her own accord, 'We hope we shall have
to record many such runs in the imperishable columns of our paper.'

[Illustration: MISS GRIMES GIVING THE 'CORRECTED' COPY TO THE PRINTER]

CHAPTER XLI

A DINNER AND A DEAL

Another grand dinner, on a more extensive scale than its predecessor,
marked the day of this glorious run.

'There's goin' to be a great blow-out,' observed Mr. Spraggon to Mr.
Sponge, as, crossing his hands and resting them on the crown of his head,
he threw himself back in his easy-chair, to recruit after the exertion of
concocting the description of the run.

'How d'ye know?' asked Sponge.

'Saw by the dinner table as we passed,' replied Jack, adding, 'it reaches
nearly to the door.'

'Indeed,' said Sponge, 'I wonder who's coming?'

'Most likely Guano again; in