'But what shall I do with the hounds?' asked Mr. Sponge, looking down upon
the confused pack, now crowding about his horse's head.
'Oh, let the beef-eaters--the scene-shifters--I meant to say the
servants--those fellows, you know, in scarlet and black caps, look after
them,' replied brother Bob Spangles.
'But there are none of them here,' exclaimed Mr. Sponge, looking back on
the deserted road.
'None of them here!' hiccuped Sir Harry, who had now got reeled to the
window. 'None of them here,' repeated he, staring vacantly at the uneven
pack. 'Oh (hiccup) I'll tell you what do--(hiccup) them into a barn or a
stable, or a (hiccup) of any sort, and we'll send for them when we want to
(hiccup) again.' 'Then just you call them to you,' replied Sponge,
thinking they would go to their master. 'Just you call them,' repeated he,
'and I'll put them to you.'
'(Hiccup) call to them?' replied Harry. 'I can't (hiccup).'
'Oh yes!' rejoined Mr. Sponge; 'call one or two by their names, and the
rest will follow.'
'Names! (hiccup) I don't know any of their nasty names,' replied Sir Harry,
staring wildly.
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