'But there are none of them here,' exclaimed Mr. Sponge, looking back on
the deserted road.

'None of them here!' hiccuped Sir Harry, who had now got reeled to the
window. 'None of them here,' repeated he, staring vacantly at the uneven
pack. 'Oh (hiccup) I'll tell you what do--(hiccup) them into a barn or a
stable, or a (hiccup) of any sort, and we'll send for them when we want to
(hiccup) again.' 'Then just you call them to you,' replied Sponge,
thinking they would go to their master. 'Just you call them,' repeated he,
'and I'll put them to you.'

'(Hiccup) call to them?' replied Harry. 'I can't (hiccup).'

'Oh yes!' rejoined Mr. Sponge; 'call one or two by their names, and the
rest will follow.'

'Names! (hiccup) I don't know any of their nasty names,' replied Sir Harry,
staring wildly.

'Towler! Towler! Towler! here, good dog--hoop!--here's your liquor!' cried
brother Bob Spangles, holding the smoking tumbler of brandy-and-water out
of the window, as if to tempt any hound that chose to answer to the name of
Towler.

There didn't seem to be a Towler in the pack; at least, none of them
qualified for the brandy-and-water.

'Oh, I'll (hiccup) you what we'll do,' exclaimed Sir Harry: 'I'll (hiccup)
you what we'll do. 'We'll just give them a (hiccup) kick a-piece and send
them (hiccuping) home,' Sir Harry reeling back into the room to the black
horse-hair sofa, where his whip was.

He presently appeared at the door, and, going into the midst of the hounds,
commenced laying about him, rating, and cutting, and kicking, and shouting.

[Illustration: SIR HARRY OF NONSUCH HOUSE]

'Geete away home with ye, ye brutes; what are you all (hiccup)ing here
about? Ah! cut off his tail!' cried he, staggering after a venerable
blear-eyed sage, who dropped his stern and took off.

'Be off! Does your mother know you're out?' cried Bob Spangles, out of the
window, to old Marksman, who stood wondering what to do.

The old hound took the hint also.

'Now, then, old feller,' cried Sir Harry, staggering up to Mr. Sponge, who
still sat on his horse, in mute astonishment at Sir Harry's mode of
dealing with his hounds. 'Now, then, old feller,' said he, seizing Mr.
Sponge by the hand, 'get rid of your quadruped, and (hiccup) in, and make
yourself "o'er all the (hiccups) of life victorious," as Bob Spangles says,
when he (hiccups) it neat. This is old (hiccup) Peastraw's, a (hiccup)
tenant of mine, and he'll be most (hiccup) to se