Hang me, if I'll stand such work! Dash me, but I'll 'quaint the
Queen!--I'll tell Sir George Grey! I'll write to Mr. Walpole! Fo-orrard!
fo-orrard!' hallooed he, as Bob Spangles and Bouncey popped upon him
unexpectedly from behind, exclaiming with well-feigned glee, as he pointed
to the streaming pack with his whip, ''Ord dash it, but we're in for a good
thing!'
Little Bouncey's horse was still yawning and star-gazing, and Bouncey,
being quite unequal to riding him and well-nigh exhausted, 'downed' him
against a rubbing-post in the middle of a field, making a 'cannon' with his
own and his horse's head, and was immediately the centre of attraction for
the panting tail. Bouncey got near a pint of sherry from among them before
he recovered from the shock. So anxious were they about him, that not one
of them thought of resuming the chase. Even the lagging whips couldn't
leave him. George Cheek was presently _hors de combat_ in a hedge, and
Watchorn seeing him 'see-sawing,' exclaimed, as he slipped through a gate:
'I'll send your mar to you, you young 'umbug.
Pages:
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903