By the powers, they're away again!' added his lordship, who, with one eye on Sponge and the other on the pack, had been watching Frosty lifting them over the bad scenting-ground, till, holding them on to a hedgerow beyond, they struck the scent on good sound pasture, and went away at score, every hound throwing his tongue, and filling the air with joyful melody.

Away they swept like a hurricane.

'F-o-o-rard!' was again the cry.
'Hang it.

Jack,' exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, laying his hand on his _double's_ shoulder, as they galloped alongside of each other, 'Hang it, Jack, see if you can't sarve out this unrighteous, mahogany-booted, rattle-snake.

_Do_ if you die for it!--I'll bury your remainders genteelly--patent coffin with brass nails, all to yourself--put Frosty and all the fellows in black, and raise a white marble monument to your memory, declaring you were the most spotless virtuous man under the sun.' 'Let me off dining with Jaw, and I'll do my best,' replied Jack.
'Done!' screamed his lordship, flourishing his right arm in the air, as he flew over a great stone wall.
A good many of the horses and sportsmen too had had enough before the hounds checked; and the quick way Frosty lifted them and hit off the scent, did not give them much time to recruit.