“Hoot, toot,” sneered the fat youth, “let’s have none of yonr jaw. Give me my horse, I say, how can he be yours?” “Because, sare,” replied Jack, “I tells you I cotched ‘im fairly in de field. Bot for me he vod have been lost to society—to de vorld at large—eat up by de loup—by de volf—saddle, bridle, and all.” “Nothing of the sort!” retorted Mr. Treadcroft, indignantly, “you had no business to touch him.” Monsieur (with energy). I appeal to you, Sare Moses Baronet, de grand maître de chien, de master of all de dogs and all de dogs’ vives, if I have not a right to ride ‘im. “Ah, I’m afraid, Monsieur, it’s not the law of this country,” replied Sir Moses, laughing. “It may be so in France, perhaps; but tell me, where’s your own horse?” Monsieur. Pomped out de beggar; had no go in ‘im; left him in a ditch. Sir Moses. That’s a pity!—if you’d allowed me, I’d have sent you a good ‘un. Mr. Treadcroft, thus reinforced by Sir Moses’s decision, returned to the charge with redoubled vigour. “If you don’t give me up my horse, sir,” says he, with firmness, “I’ll give you in charge of the police for stealing him.” Then “Conscience, which makes cowards of us all,” caused Jack to shrink at the recollection of his early indiscretion in the horse-stealing line, and instantly resolving not to give Jack Ketch a chance of taking any liberties with his neck, he thus addresses Mr. Treadcroft:— “Sare, if Sare Moses Baronet, de grand maître de chien, do grandmodder of all de dogs and all de dogs’ vives, says it is not a case of catch ‘im and keep ‘im ‘cordin’ to de rules of de grand hont de Epping, I must surrender de quadruped, but I most say it is dem un’andsome treatment, after I ‘ave been at de trouble of catching ‘im.” So saying, Jack dropped off on the wrong side of the saddle, and giving the horse a slap on his side left his owner to take him. “_Tally-ho! there he goes!_” now exclaimed a dozen voices, as out bounced the fox with a flourish of his well tagged brush that looked uncommonly defiant. What a commotion he caused! Every man lent a shout that seemed to be answered by a fresh effort from the flyer: but still, with twenty couple of overpowering animals after him, what chance did there seem for his life, especially when they could hunt him by his scent after they had lost sight. Every moment, however, improved his opportunity, and a friendly turn of the land shutting him out of view, the late darting, half-frantic pack were brought to their noses. “Hold hard for _one_, minute!” is the order of the day. “Now, catch ’em if you can!” is the cry.