The
distance couldn't have been less than"--than--what shall we say?' asked
Jack.
'Ten, twelve miles, as the crow flies,' suggested Sponge.
'No,' said Jack,' that would be too much. Say ten'; adding, 'that will be
four miles more than it was.'
'Never mind,' said Sponge, as he wrote it; 'folks like good measure with
runs as well as ribbons.'
'Now we must butter old Puff,' observed Spraggon.
'What can we say for him?' asked Sponge; 'that he never went off the road?'
'No, by Jove!' said Jack; 'you'll spoil all if you do that: better leave it
alone altogether than do that. Say, "the justly popular owner of this most
celebrated pack, though riding good fourteen stone" (he rides far more,'
observed Jack; 'at least sixteen; but it'll please him to make out that he
_can_ ride fourteen), "led the welters, on his famous chestnut horse,
Tappey Lappey."'
'What shall we say about the rest?' asked Sponge; 'Lumpleg, Slapp, Guano,
and all those?'
[Illustration: JACK AND MR. SPONGE WRITE AN ARTICLE FOR THE SWILLINGFORD
PAPER]
'Oh, say nothin',' replied Jack; 'we've nothin' to do with nobody but Puff,
and we couldn't mention them without bringin' in our Flat Hat men
too--Blossomnose, Fyle, Fossick, and so on.
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