t care for their company.

Having travelled musingly along two or three miles of road, now thinking
over the glorious run--now of the gallant way in which Hercules had carried
him--now of the pity it was that there was nobody there to see--now of the
encounter with Lord Scamperdale, just as he passed a well-filled stackyard,
that had shut out the view of a flaming red brick house with a pea-green
door and windows, an outburst of 'hoo-rays!' followed by one cheer
more--'hoo-ray!' made the remaining wild hounds prick up their ears, and
our friend rein in his horse, to hear what was 'up.' A bright fire in a
room on the right of the door overpowered the clouds of tobacco-smoke with
which the room was enveloped, and revealed sundry scarlet coats in the full
glow of joyous hilarity. It was Sir Harry and friends recruiting at Fanner
Peastraw's after their exertions; for, though they could not make much of
hunting, they were always ready to drink. They were having a rare
set-to--rashers of bacon, wedges of cheese, with oceans of malt-liquor. It
was the appearance of a magnificent cold round of home-fed beef, red with
saltpetre and flaky with white fat, borne on high by their host, that
elicited the applause and the one cheer more that broke on Mr. Sponge's ear
as he was passing--applause that was renewed as they caught a glimpse of
his red coat, not on account of his safety or that of the hounds, but
simply because being in the cheering mood, they were ready to cheer
anything.

'Hil-loo! there's Mr. What's-his-name!' exclaimed brother Bob Spangles, as
he caught view of Sponge and the hounds passing the window.

'So there is!' roared another; 'Hoo-ray!'

'Hoo-ray!' yelled two or three more.

'Stop him!' cried another.

'Call him in,' roared Sir Harry, 'and let's liquor him.'

'Hilloo! Mister What's-your-name!' exclaimed the other Spangles, throwing
up the window. 'Hilloo, won't you come in and have some refreshment?'

'Who's there?' asked Mr. Sponge, reining in the brown.

'Oh, we're all here,' shouted brother Bob Spangles, holding up a tumbler of
hot brandy-and-water; 'we're all here--Sir Harry and all,' added he.

'But what shall I do with the hounds?' asked Mr. Sponge, looking down upon
the confused pack, now crowding about his horse's head.

'Oh, let the beef-eaters--the scene-shifters--I meant to say the
servants--those fellows, you know, in scarlet and black caps, look after
them,' replied brother Bob Spangles.