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And Parvo had the knack of going, as well as
the occasional inclination. Although such a drayhorse-looking animal, he
could throw the ground behind him amazingly; and the deep-holding clay in
which he now found himself was admirably suited to his short, powerful legs
and enormous stride. The consequence was, that he was very soon up with the
hindmost horsemen. These he soon passed, and was presently among those who
ride hard when there is nothing to stop them. Such time as these sportsmen
could now spare from looking out ahead was devoted to Sponge, whom they
eyed with the utmost astonishment, as if he had dropped from the clouds.
A stranger--a real out-and-out stranger--had not visited their remote
regions since the days of poor Nimrod. 'Who could it be?' But 'the pace,'
as Nimrod used to say, 'was too good to inquire.' A little farther on, and
Sponge drew upon the great guns of the hunt--the men who ride _to_ hounds,
and not _after_ them; the same who had criticized him through the
fence--Mr. Wake, Mr. Fossick, Parson Blossomnose, Mr.


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