The ground
poached and splashed as he went; worst of all, time was nearly up.
In vain Sponge strained his eyes in search of Dundleton Tower. In vain he
fancied every high, sky-line-breaking place in the distance was the
much-wished-for spot. Dundleton Tower was no more a tower than it was a
town, and would seem to have been christened by the rule of contrary, for
it was nothing but a great flat open space, without object or incident to
note it.
Sponge, however, was not destined to see it.
As he went floundering along through an apparently interminable and almost
bottomless lane, whose sunken places and deep ruts were filled with clayey
water, which played the very deuce with the cords and brown boots, the
light note of a hound fell on his ear, and almost at the same instant, a
something that he would have taken for a dog had it not been for the note
of the hound, turned, as it were, from him, and went in a contrary
direction.
Sponge reined in the piebald, and stood transfixed. It was, indeed, the
fox!--a magnificent full-brushed fellow, with a slight tendency to grey
along the back, and going with the light spiry ease of an animal full of
strength and running.
Pages:
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243