'It would be the duty of a right-thinking man to ride over a fellow in such
a pair,' observed his friend, Mr. Cox, who was breakfasting with him.
'Ride over a fellow in such a pair!' exclaimed Whitfield. 'No well-bred
horse would face such things, I should think.'
'He seems to think a good deal of himself!' observed Mr. Cox, as Sponge
cast an admiring eye down his shining boot.
'Shouldn't wonder,' replied Whitfield; 'perhaps he'll have the conceit
taken out of him before night.'
'Well, I hope you'll be in time, old boy!' exclaimed Mr. Waffles to
himself, as looking down from his bedroom window, he espied Mr. Sponge
passing up the street on his way to cover. Mr. Waffles was just out of bed,
and had yet to dress and breakfast.
One man in scarlet sets all the rest on the fidget, and without troubling
to lay 'that or that' together, they desert their breakfasts, hurry to the
stables, get out their horses and rattle away, lest their watches should be
wrong or some arrangement made that they are ignorant of. The hounds too,
were on, as was seen as well by their footmarks, as by the bob, bob,
bobbing of sundry black caps above the hedges, on the Borrowdon road as the
huntsman and whips proceeded at that pleasant post-boy trot, that has
roused the wrath of so many riders against horses that they could not get
to keep in time.
Pages:
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109