“Good it is, too!” exclaimed he, smacking his lips; “better nor ve ad at de poblic;” so saying, he took another long suck of it. “May as vell finish it,” continued he, shaking it at his ear to ascertain what was left; and having secured the remainder, he returned the monkey to the saddle-case, and put on his horse with great glee, taking a most independent line of his own. Jack’s triumph, however, was destined to be but of short duration. The fox being hard pressed, abandoned his original point for Collington Woods, and swerving to the left over Stanbury Hundred, was headed by a cur, and compelled to seek safety in a drain in the middle of a fallow field. The hounds were presently feathering over the mouth in the usual wild, disappointed sort of way, that as good as says, “No fault of ours, you know; if he won’t stay above ground, we can’t catch him for you.” Such of the field as had not ridden straight for Collington Woods, were soon down at the spot; and while the usual enquiries, “Where’s Pepper?” “Where’s Viper?” “Where can we get a spade?” “Does anybody know anything about the direction of this drain?” were going on, a fat, fair, red-coated, flushed-faced pedestrian—to wit, young Mr. Threadcroft, the woolstapler’s son of Harden Grange and Hinton, dived into the thick of the throng, and making up to Monsieur, exclaimed in an anger-choked voice, “This (puff) is my (gasp) horse! What the (gasp, puff) devil do you mean by riding away with him in this (puff-, gasp) way?” the youth mopping his brow with a yellow bandanna as he spoke. 277m _Original Size_ “Your oss!” exclaimed Jack with the greatest effrontery, “on de loose can he be your os: I catched him fair! and I’ve a right to ride him to de end of de run;” a claim that elicited the uproarious mirth of the field, who all looked upon the young wool-pack, as they called him, as a muff. “_Nonsense!_” retorted the youth, half frantic with rage. “How can that be?” “Ow can dat be,” repeated Jack, turning sideways in his saddle, and preparing to argue the case, “Ow can dat be? Dis hont, sare, I presume, sare, is condocted on de principle of de grand hont de Epping, vere every mans vot cotched anoder’s oss, is entitled to ride him to the end of de ron,” replied Jack gravely. “Nonsense!” again retorted the youth, amidst the renewed laughter of the field. “We know nothing of Epping hunts here!” “Nothin’ of Epping onts here?” exclaimed Jack, throwing out his hands with well feigned astonishment. “Nothin’ of Epping honts here! Vy, de grand hont de Epping rules all the oder honts, jost as the grand Clob de Jockey at Newmarket rules all oder Jockey Clubs in de kingdom.”