'They're not your hounds!' snapped Mr. Sponge, now looking round on his big-spectacled, flat-hatted lordship, who was closely followed by his double, Mr. Spraggon.
'Not my hounds!' screeched his lordship. 'Oh, ye barber's apprentice! Oh, ye draper's assistant! Oh ye unmitigated Mahomedon! Sing out, Jack! sing out! For Heaven's sake, sing out!' added he, throwing out his arms in perfect despair.
'Not his lordship's hounds!' roared Jack, now rising in his stirrups and brandishing his big whip. 'Not his lordship's hounds! Tell me that, when they cost him five-and-twenty 'underd—two thousand five 'underd a year! Oh, by Jingo, but that's a pretty go! If they're not his lordship's hounds, I should like to know whose they are?' and thereupon Jack wiped the foam from his mouth on his sleeve.
'Sir Harry's!' exclaimed Mr. Sponge, again putting the horn to his lips, and blowing another shrill blast.
'Sir Harry's!' screeched his lordship in disgust, for he hated the very sound of his name—'Sir Harry's! Oh, you rusty-booted ruffian! Tell me that to my very face!'
'Sir Harry's!' repeated Jack, again standing erect in his stirrups. 'What! impeach his lordship's integrity—oh, by Jove, there's an end of everything! Death before dishonour! Slugs in a saw-pit! Pistols and coffee for two! Cock Pheasant at Weybridge, six o'clock i' the mornin'!' And Jack, sinking exhausted on his saddle, again wiped the foam from his mouth.
His lordship then went at Sponge again.
'Oh, you sanctified, putrified, pestilential, perpendicular, gingerbread-booted, counter-skippin' snob, you think because I'm a lord, and can't swear or use coarse language, that you may do what you like; but I'll let you see the contrary,' said he, brandishing his brother to Jack's whip. 'Mark you, sir, I'll fight you, sir, any non-huntin' day you like, sir, 'cept Sunday.'
Just then the clatter and blowing of horses was heard, and Frostyface emerged from the wood followed by the hounds, who, swinging themselves 'forrard' over the turnips, hit off the scent and went away full cry, followed by his lordship and Jack, leaving Mr. Sponge transfixed with astonishment.
'Changed foxes,' at length said Sponge, with a shake of his head; and just then the cry of hounds on the opposite bank confirmed his conjecture, and he got to Sir Harry's in time to take up his lordship's fox.