I woke the following morning soon after the first tinge of day had streaked the east, and found myself terribly stiff and foot-sore. My nose, too, was hot, and I felt very thirsty. “What’s the matter?” asked Trimbush, waking, as I gave a whine of uneasiness. “I’m not well,” replied I, limping from the bench. “Oh, it’s nothing to care about,” replied he, yawning and stretching his limbs. “Yesterday’s work has taken the steel and wire out of ye, that’s all.” “It does not appear to have touched you,” rejoined I. “Me!” returned Trimbush, grinning so that he showed every tooth in his head. “Do you know, youngster, what you are?” “Yes,” answered I proudly: “one who does his duty, and gives as much satisfaction as any of you _oldsters_.” “Well, well!” responded he, “I must admit that you allow yourself to be _taught_; and both the duty and satisfaction which you give at present are concentrated in that one great and good quality.” Feeling somewhat humbled at this reply, and smarting under the advantage taken of me the day before, I added sharply, “There was no teaching me to instruct you how to obtain all the credit of the finish yesterday.” “Hear, hear, hear,” said one of our companions called Chancellor. “At him again!” exclaimed a spaded bitch named Levity, and of the same age as myself. “Take a suck at the lemon, and at him again!” “You’re a sharp lot,” replied the old hound, with a mingled look of contempt and indifference, “a very sharp lot indeed. I couldn’t think,” he continued, turning to me, “what made the tip of your stern curl over your head and tickle your nose until now. I have heard of a French poodle’s being so stiff in the bend that he couldn’t get his hind legs to the ground; but hang me if your conceit is not about a match for his.” “But you must admit,” observed Chancellor, “that without him we should not have broken up our fox yesterday.” “Well!” returned Trimbush, “and supposing I _do_ admit it, what then?” “You should not have snatched the honour from him,” replied Levity. “Honour?” rejoined Trimbush. “Pooh! The honour was already gained before we mouthed the fox. We all like blood for the finish--men as well as hounds--but it does not follow that there may not be quite as much credit due to both without a _who-whoop_ as with it. For instance,” continued he, “if that youngster Ringwood had had his nose to the ground--as he should have done the moment the fox was lost to view, instead of occupying himself by stargazing--we should, in all probability, have lost our fox. What would have caused us to have done so? A mere accident, for which no one would have been to blame. And what, let me ask, enabled us to obtain a more desirable result? Just as accidental a circumstance. Honour? Fudge!” “At any rate,” said Chancellor, “I heard everybody praising what they called your sagacity for discovering the fox in the tree.”