The first thing that attracted his attention was his own pumped-out steed, standing with its snaffle-rein thrown over a gate-post; and Jack, having had about enough pedestrian exercise, especially considering that he was walking in his own boots, now gladly availed himself of the lately discarded mount. “Wooay, ye great grunting brute!” exclaimed he, going up with an air of ownership, taking the rein off the post, and climbing on. He had scarcely got well under way, ere a clattering of horses’ hoofs behind him, attracted his attention; and, looking back, he saw the Collington Woods detachment careering along in the usual wild, staring, _which-way? which-way?_ sort of style of men, who have been riding to points, and have lost the hounds. In the midst of the flight was his master, on the now woe-begone bay; who came coughing, and cutting, and hammer and pincering along, in a very ominous sort of way. Billy, on the other hand, flattered himself that they were having a very tremendous run, with very little risk, and he was disposed to take every advantage of his horse, by way of increasing its apparent severity, thinking it would be a fine thing to tell his Mamma how he had got through his horse. Monsieur having replied to their _which ways?_ with the comfortable assurance “that they need not trouble themselves any further, the hounds being miles and miles away,” there was visible satisfaction on the faces of some; while others, more knowing, attempted to conceal their delight by lip-curling exclamations of “What a bore!” “Thought _you_ knew the country, Brown.” “Never follow you again, Smith,” and so on. They then began asking for the publics. “Where’s the Red Lion?” “Does anybody know the way to the Barley Mow?” “How far is it to the Dog and Duck at Westpool?” “Dat oss of yours sall not be quite vell, I tink, sare,” observed Jack to his master, after listening to one of its ominous coughs. “Oh, yes he is, only a little lazy,” replied Billy, giving him a refresher, as well with the whip on his shoulder, as with the spur on his side. “He is feeble, I should say, sare,” continued Jack, eyeing him pottering along. “What should I give him, then?” asked Billy, thinking there might be something in what Jack said. “I sud say a leetle gin vod be de best ting for im,” replied Jack. “Gin! but where can I get gin here?” asked Billy. “Dese gentlemens is asking their vays to de Poblic ouses,” replied Jack; “and if you follows dem, you vill laud at some tap before long.”