'T'weet—t'weet—t'weet,' went his lordship's shriller one.
'In for a stinger, my lurd,' observed Jack, returning his horn to the case.
'Hope so,' replied his lordship, pocketing his.
They then flew the first fence together.
'F-o-r-r-ard!' screamed Jack in the air, as he saw the hounds packing well together, and racing with a breast-high scent.
'F-o-r-rard!' screamed his lordship, who was a sort of echo to his huntsman, just as Jack Spraggon was echo to his lordship.
'He's away for Gunnersby Craigs,' observed Jack, pointing that way, for they were a good ten miles off.
'Hope so,' replied his lordship, for whom the distance could never be too great, provided the pace corresponded.
'F-o-o-r-rard!' screamed Jack.
'F-o-r-rard!' screeched his lordship.