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The best stalls at the head inn--the Bull's Head--were all full, several
trusty grooms having arrived with the usual head-stalls and rolls of
clothing on their horses, denoting the object of their mission. Most of the
horses had been in some hours, and were now standing well littered up with
straw, while the grooms were in the tap talking over their masters,
discussing the merits of their horses, or arguing whether Lord Scamperdale
was mad or not. They had just come to the conclusion that his lordship was
mad, but not incapable of taking care of his affairs, when the trampling of
Sponge's horse's feet drew them out to see who was coming next. Sponge's
red coat at once told his tale, and procured him the usual attention.
Mr. Leather's fear of the want of clothing for the valuable hunter proved
wholly groundless, for each groom having come with a plentiful supply for
his own horse, all the inn stock was at the service of the stranger. The
stable, to be sure, was not quite so good as might be desired, but it was
warm and water-tight, and the corn was far from bad.


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