That nasty brown-booted buffer completely threw me
off my feed. By the way, what became of the chestnut-booted animal?'
'Went home,' replied Jack; 'fittest place for him.'
'Hope he'll stay there,' rejoined his lordship. 'No fear of his being at
the roads to-morrow, is there?' 'None,' replied Jack. 'I told him it was
quite an impossible distance from him, twenty miles at least.'
'That's grand!' exclaimed his lordship; 'that's grand! Then we'll have a
rare, ding-dong hey--away pop. There'll be no end of those nasty, jealous.
Puffington dogs out; and if we have half such a scent as we had to-day,
we'll sew some of them up, we'll show 'em what hunting is. Now,' he added,
'if you'll go and get the bottle of port, I'll clean myself, and then we'll
have dinner as quick as we can.'
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE FAITHFUL GROOM
We left our friend Mr. Sponge wending his way home moodily, after having
lost his day at Larkhall Hill. Some of our readers will, perhaps, say, why
didn't he clap on, and try to catch up the hounds at a check, or at all
events rejoin them for an afternoon fox? Gentle reader! Mr.
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