After Jack comes old black-booted Blossomnose; and Messrs.

Wake, Fossick, and Fyle, complete our complement of five.

They are all riding steadily and well; all very irate, however, at the stranger for going before them, and ready to back Jack in anything he may say or do.
On, on they go; the hounds still pressing forward, though not carrying quite so good a head as before.

In truth, they have run four miles in twenty minutes; pretty good going anywhere except upon paper, where they always go unnaturally fast.

However, there they are, still pressing on, though with considerably less music than before.
After rounding Newington Hill, they got into a wilder and worse sort of country, among moorish, ill-cultivated land, with cold unwholesome-looking fallows.