'Shouldn't wonder,' replied his lordship, eyeing Sponge's vain endeavours to turn the chestnut, and thinking how he would 'pitch into him' when he came up. 'By Jove,' added his lordship, 'if the fellow had taken the whole country round, he couldn't have chosen a worse spot for such an exploit; for there never _is_ any scent over here. See! not a hound can own it. Old Harmony herself throws up. The whips again are in their places, turning the astonished pack to Frostyface, who sets off on a casting expedition. The field, as usual, sit looking on; some blessing Sponge; some wondering who he was; others looking what o'clock it is; some dismounting and looking at their horses' feet. 'Thank you, Mr. Brown Boots!' exclaimed his lordship, as, by dint of bitting and spurring, Sponge at length worked the beast round, and came sneaking back in the face of the whole field. 'Thank you, Mr. Brown Boots,' repeated he, taking off his hat and bowing very low. 'Very much obl_e_ged to you, Mr. Brown Boots. Most particklarly obl_e_ged to you, Mr. Brown Boots,' with another low bow. 'Hang'd obl_e_ged to you, Mr. Brown Boots! D--n you, Mr. Brown Boots!' continued his lordship, looking at Sponge as if he would eat him. 'Beg pardon, sir,' blurted Sponge; 'my horse--' 'Hang your horse!' screamed his lordship; 'it wasn't your horse that headed the fox, was it?' 'Beg pardon--couldn't help it; I--' 'Couldn't help it. Hang your helps--you're _always_ doing it, sir. You could stay at home, sir--I s'pose, sir--couldn't you, sir? eh, sir?' Sponge was silent. 'See, sir!' continued his lordship, pointing to the mute pack now following the huntsman, 'you've lost us our fox, sir--yes, sir, lost us our fox, sir. D'ye call that nothin', sir? If you don't, _I_ do, you perpendicular-looking Puseyite pig-jobber! By Jove! you think because I'm a lord, and can't swear, or use coarse language, that you may do what you like--but I'll take my hounds home, sir--yes, sir, I'll take my hounds home, sir.' So saying, his lordship roared HOME to Frostyface; adding, in an undertone to the first whip, 'bid him go to Furzing-field gorse.' CHAPTER XXI A COUNTRY DINNER-PARTY [Illustration] 'Well, what sport?' asked Jawleyford, as he encountered his exceedingly dirty friend crossing the entrance hall to his bedroom on his return from his day, or rather his non-day, with the 'Flat Hat Hunt.' 'Why, not much--that's to say, nothing particular--I mean, I've not had any,' blurted Sponge. 'But you've had a run?' observed Jawleyford, pointing to his boots and breeches, stained with the variation of each soil. 'Ah, I got most of that going to cover,' replied Sponge; 'country's awfully deep, roads abominably dirty!' adding, 'I wish I'd taken your advice, and stayed at home.'