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'Why, here's our old Rummager, I declare!' exclaimed Spraggon, who, having
vaulted the iron hurdles, was now among the pack. 'Why, here's our old
Rummager, I declare!' repeated he, laying his whip on the head of a
solemn-looking black and white hound, somewhat down in the toes, and
looking as if he was about done.
'Sc-e-e-use me, sir,' replied Bragg, leaning over his horse's shoulder, and
whispering into Jack's ear; 'sc-e-e-use me, sir, but _drop_ that, sir, if
you please, sir.'
'Drop what?' asked Jack, squinting through his great tortoiseshell-rimmed
spectacles up into Bragg's face.
''Bout knowing of that 'ound, sir,' whispered Bragg; 'the fact is, sir--we
call him Merryman, sir; master don't know I got him from you, sir.'
'O-o-o,' replied Jack, squinting, if possible, more frightfully than
before.
'Ah, that's the hound I offered to Scamperdale,' observed Puffington,
seeing the movement, and coming up to where Jack stood; 'that's the hound I
offered to Scamperdale,' repeated he, taking the old dog's head between his
hands.


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