Jawleyford, though sore disconcerted at having ‘Jack’ pawned upon him, stuck to my lord, and rode on his right with the air of a general.  He felt he was doing his duty as an Englishman in thus patronizing the hounds—­encouraging a manly spirit of independence, and promoting our unrivalled breed of horses.  The post-boy trot at which hounds travel, to be sure, is not well adapted for dignity; but Jawleyford nourished and vapoured as well as he could under the circumstances, and considering they were going down hill.  Lord Scamperdale rode along, laughing in his sleeve at the idea of the pleasant evening Jack and Jawleyford would have together, occasionally complimenting Jawleyford on the cut and condition of his horse, and advising him to be careful of the switching raspers with which the country abounded, and which might be fatal to his nice nutmeg—­coloured trousers.  The rest of the ‘field’ followed, the fall of the ground enabling them to see ‘how thick Jawleyford was with my lord.’  Old Blossomnose, who, we should observe, had slipped away unperceived on Jawleyford’s arrival, took a bird’s-eye view from the rear.  Naughty Blossom was riding the horse that ought to have gone in the ‘chay’ to Jawleyford Court.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE GREAT RUN

Our hero having inveigled the brown under lee of an out-house as the field moved along, was fortunate enough to achieve the saddle without disclosing the secrets of the stable; and as he rejoined the throng in all the pride of shape, action, and condition, even the top-sawyers.  Fossick, Fyle, Bliss, and others, admitted that Hercules was not a bad-like horse; while the humbler-minded ones eyed Sponge with a mixture of awe and envy, thinking what a fine trade literature must be to stand such a horse.

‘Is your friend What’s-his-name, a workman?’ asked Lord Scamperdale, nodding towards Sponge as he trotted Hercules gently past on the turf by the side of the road along which they were riding.

‘Oh no,’ replied Jawleyford tartly.  ‘Oh no—­gentleman, man of property—­’

‘I did not mean was he a mechanic,’ explained his lordship drily, ’but a workman; a good ‘un across country, in fact.’  His lordship working his arms as if he was going to set-to himself.

‘Oh, a first-rate man!—­first-rate man!’ replied Jawleyford; ’beat them all at Laverick Wells.’

‘I thought so,’ observed his lordship; adding to himself, ’then Jack shall take the conceit out of him.’

‘Jack!’ halloaed he over his shoulder to his friend, who was jogging a little behind; ‘Jack!’ repeated he, ‘that Mr. Something—­’

‘Sponge!’ observed Jawleyford, with an emphasis.

‘That Mr. Sponge,’ continued his lordship, ’is a stranger in the country:  have the kindness to take care of him.  You know what I mean?’

‘Just so,’ replied Jack; ‘I’ll take care of him.’