Volume Ii Part 5 (1/2)

Such a field had been rarely seen with the Sternum hounds--hors.e.m.e.n, carriages, mounted ladies, all eager.

”Let the whips be with you, or rather at the outside of the cover, to keep the people back,” whispered Captain Martaingail to the huntsman.

”I will go to the top of the cover when I give the view halloa. You know what to do.”

”Certain of a fox, I suppose, Martaingail?” asked Lord Wildrace, as they were smoking their cigars close to the hounds, who were drawn up on a bit of greensward, giving the ten minutes' law for the late comers.

”It has never yet been drawn blank,” returned the Captain. ”Ah! there goes Slowman with the hounds. Time's up.”

Cigar ends were now thrown away, girths tightened, stirrup-leathers shortened or let down.

The Captain stole into cover, and then galloped away to the far end.

Presently a ringing tally-ho was heard.

”Found quickly,” growled Jack Spraggon, as he bustled along on Daddy Longlegs to get a good place.

”That's your sort, old c.o.c.k!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sponge, as he dashed past him on Hercules, throwing a lot of mud on Jack's spectacles from his horse's hoofs.

”Oh, you unrighteous sn.o.b!--you rusty-booted c.o.c.kney!” exclaimed Spraggon, rubbing at his spectacles with the back of his gloved hand, thereby daubing the mud all over the gla.s.ses, and making it worse.

”Just like you, you docked-tail humbug!”

Too-too went Slowman's horn. ”Give 'em time, gentlemen--give 'em time!”

he screamed, as he took the wattled fence from the spinny into the fallow beyond. The hounds took up the drag at once, and raced away.

”Yonder he goes!” exclaimed the captain, pointing with his whip to some imaginary object, and, digging the latchfords into his horse, was away.

The first fence was a flight of sheep-hurdles, stretching the whole way across a large turnip field. Here Jawleyford on his old cob came to grief, being sent flying right through his ears.

”Sarve you right!” muttered Spraggon, as Daddy Longlegs took it in his stride. ”You would not do a bit of paper for me last week. May you lie there for a month!”

”Pick up the bits,” roared Sponge to him as he galloped past, ”and lay in a fresh stock of that famous port of yours.”

But the hounds were carrying too good a head for much chaff. The gentlemen of the Sternum hunt were riding like mad. Already horses began to sob; for the pace was a rattler, and the country heavy. The celebrated Rushpool brook was before them--that brook that so many have plumbed the depth of. It wants a deal of doing.

Lord Wildrace charged it, so did Spraggon; but both were in. Sponge, on Hercules flew over. Slowman and the Captain did it a little lower down.

Head, Over, and a host of others galloped for a ford half a mile away.

Out of a large field only eight or ten cleared the Rushpool brook. His lords.h.i.+p and Spraggon were soon out and going; and their horses having a fine turn of speed enabled them to come up with the hounds again; and their checking for a few minutes, in consequence of some sheep having stained the ground, let up the rest of the field on their now nearly beaten horses.

”Fastish thing, my Lord, is it not?” said Over to Lord Wildrace, who was mopping his head with a scarlet silk pocket-handkerchief.

”Yes,” said the n.o.bleman, turning his horse's head to the wind, ”devilish sharp. I'm cold, too. I wish I could see my second horse. I'm pumped out.”

”Have a nip of brandy, Wildrace,” said Captain Martaingail, offering his silver flask. ”Been in the water, I see--and a good many more, too,” casting his eyes on half a score of dripping objects. ”It's a very distressing jump to a horse, is that Rushpool brook. By gad, they have hit off again!”

Slowman knew well the line to cast his hounds, and they soon hit it off, and went racing away again, heads up and sterns down.

At last Bolton Mill was in sight, and here many got their second horses, the head grooms from the other hunt having followed the Captain's, and the joint masters' servants were there already.