gony of
despair. 'Oh, the devil!' repeated he in a lower tone, as Mr. Sponge
approached.

'Where's there a gate?' roared our friend, skating up.

'Gate! there's never a gate within a mile, and that's locked,' replied
Watchorn sulkily.

'Then here goes!' replied Mr. Sponge, gathering the chestnut together to
give him an opportunity of purging himself of his previous _faux pas_.
'Here goes!' repeated he, thrusting his hard hat firmly on his head. Taking
his horse back a few paces, Mr. Sponge crammed him manfully at the palings,
and got over with a rap.

'Well done you!' exclaimed Miss Glitters in delight; adding to Watchorn,
'Now, old Beardey, you go next.'

Beardey was irresolute. He pretended to be anxious to get the tail hounds
over.

'Clear the way, then!' exclaimed Miss Glitters, putting her horse back, her
bright eyes flashing as she spoke. She took him back as far as Mr. Sponge
had done, touched him with the whip, and in an instant she was high in the
air, landing safely on the far side.

'Hoo-ray!' exclaimed Captains Quod and Cutitfat, who now came panting up.

'Now, Mr. Watchorn!' cried Captain Seedeybuck, adding, 'You're a huntsman!'

'Yooi over, Prosperous! Yooi over, Buster!' cheered Watchorn, still
pretending anxiety about his hounds.

'Let _me_ have a shy,' squeaked George Cheek, backing his giraffe, as he
had seen Mr. Sponge and Miss Glitters do.

George took his screw by the head, and, giving him a hearty rib-roasting
with his whip, ran him full tilt at the palings, and carried away half a
rood.

'Hoo-ray!' cried the liberated field.

'_I_ knew how it would be,' exclaimed Mr. Watchorn, in well-feigned disgust
as he rode through the gap; adding, '_con_-founded young waggabone!
Deserves to be well _chaste_-tized for breakin' people's palin's in that
way--lettin' in all the rubbishin' tail.'

The scene then changed. In lieu of the green, though hard, sward of the
undulating park, our friends now found themselves on large frozen fallows,
upon whose uneven surface the heaviest horses made no impression while the
shuffling rats of ponies toiled and floundered about, almost receding in
their progress. Mr. Sponge was just topping the fence out of the first one,
and Miss Glitters was gathering her horse to ride at it, as Watchorn and
Co. emerged from the park. Rounding the turnip-hill beyond, the leading
hounds were racing with a breast-high scent, followed by the pack in
long-drawn file.

'What