'No, no,' said Jack; 'I meant to say that you and I were the distinguished strangers and members of Lord Scamperdale's hunt; but that's between ourselves, you know.'
'Good,' said Sponge; 'then I'll strike that out,' running his pen through the words 'that means you and I.' 'Now get on,' said he, appealing to Jack, adding, 'we've a deal to do yet.'
'Say,' said Jack, '"after partaking of the well-known profuse and splendid hospitality of Hanby House, they proceeded at once to Hollyburn Hanger, where a fine seasoned fox—though some said he was a bag one—"'
'Did they?' exclaimed Sponge, adding, 'well, I thought he went away rather queerly.'
'Oh, it was only old Bung the brewer, who runs down every run he doesn't ride.'
'Well, never mind,' replied Sponge, 'we'll make the best of it, whatever it was'; writing away as he spoke, and repeating the words 'bag one' as he penned them.
'"Broke away,"' continued Jack:
'"In view of the whole field,"' added Sponge. 'Just so,' assented Jack.
'"Every hound scoring to cry, and making the "—the—the—what d'ye call the thing?' asked Jack.
'Country,' suggested Sponge.