Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour

  CHAPTER LXIV

  THE KENNEL AND THE STUD

  We will now accompany Mr. Watchorn to the stable, whither his resolute legscarried him as soon as the champagne wrought the wonderful change in hisopinion of the weather, though, as he every now and then crossed a spangledpiece of ground upon which the sun had not struck, or stopped to crack apiece of ice with his toe, he shook his heated head and doubted whether_he_ was Cardinal Wiseman for making the attempt. Nothing but the fact ofhis considering it perfectly immaterial whether he was with his hounds ornot encouraged him in the undertaking. 'Dash them!' said he, 'they mustjust take care of themselves.' With which laudable resolution, and aninward anathema at George Cheek, he left off trying the ground and tappingthe ice.

  Watchorn's hurried, excited appearance produced little satisfaction amongthe grooms and helpers at the stables, who were congratulating themselveson the opportune arrival of the frost, and arranging how they should spendtheir New Year's Day.

  'Look sharp, lads! look sharp!' exclaimed he, clapping his hands as he ranup the yard. 'Look sharp, lads! look sharp!' repeated he, as the astonishedhelpers showed their bare arms and dirty shirts at the partially openeddoors, responsive to the sound. 'Send Snaffle here, send Brown here, sendGreen here, send Snooks here,' exclaimed he, with the air of a man inauthority.

  Now Snaffle was the stud-groom, a personage altogether independent of thehuntsman, and, in the ordinary course of nature, Snaffle had just as muchright to send for Watchorn as Watchorn had to send for him; but Watchornbeing, as we said before, some way connected with Lady Scattercash, he justdid as he liked among the whole of them, and they were too good judges torebel.

  'Snaffle,' said he, as the portly, well-put-on personage waddled up to him;'Snaffle,' said he, 'how many sound 'osses have you?'

  '_None_, sir,' replied Snaffle confidently.

  'How many three-legged 'uns have you that can go, then?'

  'Oh! a good many,' replied Snaffle, raising his hands to tell them off onhis fingers. 'There's Hop-the-twig, and Hannah Bell (Hannibal), and UglyJade, and Sir-danapalis--the Baronet as we calls him--and Harkaway, andHit-me-hard, and Single-peeper, and Jack's-alive, and Groggytoes, andGreedyboy, and Puff-and-blow; that's to say _two_ and three-legged 'uns, atleast,' observed Snaffle, qualifying his original assertion.

  'Ah, well!' said Watchorn, 'that'll do--two legs are too many for some ofthe rips they'll have to carry--Let me see,' continued he thoughtfully,'I'll ride 'Arkaway.'

  'Yes, sir,' said Snaffle.

  'Sir 'Arry, 'It-me-'ard.'

  'Won't you put him on Sir-danapalis?' asked Snaffle.

  'No,' replied Watchorn, 'no; I wants to save the Bart.--I wants to save theBart. Sir 'Arry must ride 'It-me-'ard.'

  'Is her ladyship going?' asked Snaffle.

  'Her ladyship drives,' replied Watchorn. 'And you. Snooks,' addressing abare-armed helper, 'tell Mr. Traces to turn her out a pony phaeton andpair, with fresh rosettes and all complete, you know.'

  'Yes sir,' said Snooks, with a touch of his forelock.

  'And you'd better tell Mr. Leather to have a horse for his master,'observed Watchorn to Snaffle, 'unless as how you wish to put him on one ofyours.'

  'Not I,' exclaimed Snaffle; 'have enough to mount without him. D'ye knowhow many'll be goin'?' asked he.

  'No,' replied Watchorn, hurrying off; adding, as he went, 'oh, hang 'em,just saddle 'em all, and let 'em scramble for 'em.'

  The scene then changed. Instead of hissing helpers pursuing their vocationsin stable or saddle-room, they began bustling about with saddles on theirheads and bridles in their hands, the day of expected ease being changedinto one of unusual trouble. Mr. Leather declared, as he swept the clothesover Multum-in-Parvo's tail, that it was the most unconscionable proceedinghe had ever witnessed; and muttered something about the quiet comforts hehad left at Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey's, hinting his regret at having come toSir Harry's, in a sort of dialogue with himself as he saddled the horse.The beauties of the last place always come out strong when a servant getsto another. But we must accompany Mr. Watchorn.

  Though his early career with the Camberwell and Balham Hill Union harriershad not initiated him much into the delicacies of the chase, yet,recollecting the presence of Mr. Sponge, he felt suddenly seized with adesire of 'doing things as they should be'; and he went muttering to thekennel, thinking how he would leave Dinnerbell and Prosperous at home, andhow the pack would look quite as well without Frantic running half a fieldahead, or old Stormer and Stunner bringing up the rear with long protractedhowls. He doubted, indeed, whether he would take Desperate, who was anincorrigible skirter; but as she was not much worse in this respect thanChatterer or Harmony, who was also an inveterate babbler, and the packwould look rather short without them, he reserved the point for furtherconsideration, as the judges say.

  His speculations were interrupted by arriving at the kennel, and findingthe door fast, he looked under the slate, and above the frame, and insidethe window, and on the wall, for the key; and his shake, and kick, andclatter were only answered by a full chorus from the excited companywithin.

  'Hang the feller! what's got 'im!' exclaimed he, meaning Joe Haggish, thefeeder, whom he expected to find there.

  Joe, however, was absent; not holiday-making, but on a diplomatic visit toMr. Greystones, the miller, at Splashford, who had positively refused tosupply any more meal, until his 'little bill' (L430) for the three previousyears was settled; and flesh being very scarce in the country, the houndswere quite light and fit to go. Joe had gone to try and coax Greystones outof a ton or two of meal, on the strength of its being New Year's Day.

  'Dash the feller! wot's got'im?' exclaimed Watchorn, seizing the latch, andrattling it furiously. The melody of the hungry pack increased. ''Ord rotthe door!' exclaimed the infuriated huntsman, setting his back against it;at the first push, open it flew. Watchorn fell back, and the astonishedpack poured over his prostrate body, regardless alike of his holiday coat,his tidy tie, and toilenette vest. What a scrimmage! What a kick-up wasthere! Away the hounds scampered, towling and howling, some up to thefleshwheel, to see if there was any meat; some to the bone heap, to see ifthere was any there; others down to the dairy, to try and effect anentrance in it; while Launcher, and Lightsome, and Burster, rushed to thebackyard of Nonsuch House, and were presently over ears in the pig-pail.

  'Get me my horn! get me my whop!--get me my cap!--get me my bouts!'exclaimed Watchorn, as he recovered his legs, and saw his wife eyeing thescene from the door. 'Get me my bouts!--get me my cap!--get me mywhop!--get me my horn, woman!' continued he, reversing the order of things,and rubbing the hounds' feetmarks off his clothes as he spoke.

  Mrs. Watchorn was too well drilled to dwell upon orders, and she met herlord and master in the passage with the enumerated articles in her hand.Watchorn having deposited himself on an entrance-hall chair--for it was aroomy, well-furnished house, having been the steward's while there wasanything to take care of--Mrs. Watchorn proceeded to strip off his gaiterswhile he drew on his boots and crowned himself with his cap. Mrs. Watchornthen buckled on his spurs, and he hurried off, horn in hand, desiring herto have him a basin of turtle-soup ready against he came in; adding, 'Sheknew where to get it.' The frosty air then resounded with the twang, twang,twang of his horn, and hounds began drawing up from all quarters, just assportsmen cast up at a meet from no one knows where.

  'He-here, hounds--he-here, good dogs!' cried he, coaxing and making much ofthe first-comers: 'he-here. Galloper, old boy!' continued he, diving intohis coat-pocket, and throwing him a bit of biscuit. The appearance of foodhad a very encouraging effect, for forthwith there was a general rushtowards Watchorn, and it was only by rating and swinging his 'whop' aboutthat he prevented the pack from pawing, and perhaps downing him. At length,having got them somewhat tranquillized, he set off on his return to thestables, coaxing the shy hounds, and rating and rapping those that seemedinclined to break away. Thus he managed to march into the stable-yard inpretty good orde
r, just as the house party arrived in the oppositedirection, attired in the most extraordinary and incongruous habiliments.There was Bob Spangles, in a swallow-tailed, mulberry-coloured scarlet,that looked like an old pen-wiper, white duck trousers, and lack-lustreNapoleon boots; Captain Cutitfat, in a smart new 'Moses and Son's'straight-cut scarlet, with bloodhound heads on the buttons, yellow-ochreleathers, and Wellington boots with drab knee-caps; little Bouncey in atremendously baggy long-backed scarlet, whose gaping outside-pockets showedthat they had carried its late owner's hands as well as his handkerchief;the clumsy device on the tarnished buttons looking quite as much likesheep's-heads as foxes'. Bouncey's tight tweed trousers were thrust into apair of wide fisherman's boots, which, but for his little roundaboutstomach, would have swallowed him up bodily. Captain Quod appeared in avenerable dresscoat of the Melton Hunt, made in the popular reign of Mr.Errington, whose much-stained and smeared silk facings bore testimony tothe good cheer it had seen. As if in contrast to the light airiness of thisgarment, Quod had on a tremendously large shaggy brown waistcoat, with hornbuttons, a double tier of pockets, and a nick out in front. With an unfairpartiality his nether man was attired in a pair of shabby old black, orrather brown, dress trousers, thrust into long Wellington boots with brassheel spurs. Captain Seedeybuck had on a spruce swallow-tailed green coat ofSir Harry's, a pair of old tweed trousers of his own, thrust into longchamois-leather opera-boots, with red morocco tops, giving the whole a veryunique and novel appearance. Mr. Orlando Bugles, though going to drive withmy lady, thought it incumbent to put on his jack-boots, and appeared inkerseymere shorts, and a highly frogged and furred blue frock-coat, withthe corner of a musked cambric kerchief acting the part of a star on hisbreast.

  "Here comes old sixteen-string'd Jack!" exclaimed Bob Spangles, as hisbrother-in-law, Sir Harry, came hitching and limping along, all strings,and tapes, and ends, as usual, followed by Mr. Sponge in the strict andsevere order of sporting costume; double-stitched, back-stitched,sleeve-strapped, pull-devil, pull-baker coat, broad corduroy vest withfox-teeth buttons, still broader corded breeches, and the redoubtablevinegar tops. "Now we're all ready!" exclaimed Bob, working his arms as ifanxious to be off, and giving a shrill shilling-gallery whistle with hisfingers, causing the stable-doors to fly open, and the variously tackledsteeds to emerge from their stalls.

  "A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!" exclaimed Miss Glitters,running up as fast as her long habit, or rather Lady Scattercash's longhabit, would allow her. "A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!"repeated she, diving into the throng.

  'White Surrey is saddled for the field,' replied Mr. Orlando Bugles,drawing himself up pompously, and waving his right hand gracefully towardsher ladyship's Arab palfrey, inwardly congratulating himself that MissGlitters was going to be bumped upon it instead of him.

  'Give us a leg up, Seedey!' exclaimed Lucy Glitters to the 'gent' of thegreen coat, fearing that Miss Howard, who was a little behind, might claimthe horse.

  MR. BUGLES GOES OUT HUNTING AGAIN]

  Captain Seedeybuck seized her pretty little uplifted foot and vaulted herinto the saddle as light as a cork. Taking the horse gently by the mouth,she gave him the slightest possible touch with the whip, and moved himabout at will, instead of fretting and fighting him as the clumsy,heavy-handed Bugles had done. She looked beautiful on horseback, and for atime riveted the attention of our sportsmen. At length they began to thinkof themselves, and then there were such climbings on, and clutchings, andcatchings, and clingings, and gently-ings, and who-ho-ings, andwho-ah-ings, and questionings if 'such a horse was quiet?' if another'could leap well?' if a third 'had a good mouth?' and whether a fourth'ever ran away?'

  'Take my port-stirrup up two 'oles!' exclaimed Captain Bouncey from the topof high Hop-the-twig, sticking out a leg to let the groom do it.

  The captain had affected the sea instead of the land service, while abetting-list keeper, and found the bluff sailor character very taking.

  'Avast there!' exclaimed he, as the groom ran the buckle up to the desiredhole. 'Now,' said he, gathering up the reins in a bunch, 'how many knots anhour can this 'orse go?'

  'Twenty,' replied the man, thinking he meant miles.

  'Let her go, then!' exclaimed the captain, kicking the horse's sides withhis spurless heels.

  Mr. Watchorn now mounted Harkaway; Sir Harry scrambled on to Hit-me-hard;Miss Howard was hoisted on to Groggytoes, and all the rest being 'fit' withhorses of some sort or other, and the races in the front being over thejuveniles poured into the yard. Lady Scattercash's pony-phaeton turned out,and our friends were at length ready for a start.