ll Sponge's 'Come-up's' or kicks could induce him to rise before he
had gone through the whole ceremony. At length, with a mane full of gravel,
a side well smeared, and a 'Wilkinson & Kidd' sadly scratched, the
_ci-devant_ actor arose, much to the relief of the village lad, who having
indulged in a gallop as he brought him from Lucksford, expected his death
would be laid at his door. No sooner was he up, than, without waiting for
him to shake himself, Mr. Soapey vaulted into the saddle, and seizing him
by the head, let in the Latchfords in a style that satisfied the hack he
was not going to canter in a circle. Away he went, best pace; for like all
Mr. Sponge's horses, he had the knack of going, the general difficulty
being to get them to go the way they were wanted.

Sponge presently overtook Mr. Jawleyford, who had been brought up by a
gate, which he was making sundry ineffectual Briggs-like passes and efforts
to open; the gate and his horse seeming to have combined to prevent his
getting through. Though an expert swordsman, he had never been able to
accomplish, the art of opening a gate, especially one of those gingerly
balanced spring-snecked things that require to be taken at the nick of
time, or else they drop just as the horse gets his nose to them.

'Why aren't you here to open the gate?' asked Jawleyford, snappishly, as
the blue boy bustled up as his master's efforts became more hopeless at
each attempt.

The lad, like a wise fellow, dropped from his horse, and opening it with
his hands, ran it back on foot.

Jawleyford and Sponge then rode through.

Canter, canter, canter, went Jawleyford, with an arm akimbo, head well up,
legs well down, toes well pointed, as if he were going to a race, where his
work would end on arriving, instead of to a fox-hunt, where it would only
begin.

[Illustration: JAWLEYFORD GOING TO THE HUNT]

'You are rather hard on the old nag, aren't you?' at length asked Sponge,
as, having cleared the rushy, swampy park, they came upon the macadamized
turnpike, and Jawleyford selected the middle of it as the scene of his
further progression.

'Oh no!' replied Jawleyford, tit-tup-ing along with a loose rein, as if he
was on the soundest, freshest-legged horse in the world; 'oh no! my horses
are used to it.' 'Well, but if you mean to hunt him,' observed Sponge,
'he'll be blown before he gets to cover.'

'Get him in wind, my dear fellow,' replied Jawleyford, 'get him in wind,'
touching t