'
'I'll be bund,' cried Sir Harry, 'it was all sham--that he just (hiccup)
and excuse for getting into that cover. The old (hiccup) beggar is always
at some trick, (hiccup)-ing my foxes or disturbing my covers or something,'
Sir Harry being just enough of a master of hounds to be jealous of the
neighbouring ones.
'Well, however, there he was,' continued Mr. Sponge; 'and the first
intimation I had of the fact was a great, gruff voice, exclaiming, "Who the
Dickens are you?"
'"Who the Dickens are you?" replied I.'
'Bravo!' shouted Sir Harry.
'Capital!' exclaimed Seedeybuck.
'Go it, you cripples! Newgate's on fire!' shouted Captain Quod.
'Well, what said he?' asked Sir Harry.
'"They commonly call me the Earl of Scamperdale," roared he, "and those are
MY HOUNDS."
'"They're _not_ your hounds," replied I.
'"Whose are they, then?" asked he.
'"Sir Harry Scattercash's, a devilish deal better fellow," replied I.
'"Oh, by Jove!" roared he, "there's an end of everything, Jack," shouted he
to old Spraggon, "this gentleman says these are not my hounds!"
'"I'll tell you what it is, my lord," said I, gathering my whip and riding
close up as if I was goin' to pitch into him, "I'll tell you what it is;
you think, because you're a lord, you may abuse people as you like, but by
Jingo you've mistaken your man.
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