He then gasped and held his breath, making himself as small as possible, while he coaxed the buttons into the holes; and that difficult process being at length accomplished, he stood still awhile to take breath after the exertion.

Then he began to rebutton the easy, brown great-coat, going deliberately up the whole series, from the small button below, to keep the laps together, up to the one on the neck, or where the neck would have been if Jog had not been all stomach up to the chin.

He then soused himself into his seat, and, snorting heavily through his nostrils, took the reins and whip and long holly from Mr.Sponge, and drove leisurely on.
Sponge sat anathematizing his slowness.
When they reached the farmhouse on the hill the hounds were fairly in view.
The huntsman was casting them, and the horsemen were grouped about as usual, while the laggers were stealing quietly up the lanes and by-roads, thinking nobody would see them.

Save the whites or the greys, our friends in the 'chay' were not sufficiently near to descry the colours of the horses; but Mr.Sponge could not help thinking that he recognized the outline of the wicked chestnut, Multum-in-Parvo.
'By the powers, but if it is him,' muttered he to himself, clenching his fist and grinding his teeth as he spoke, 'but I'll--I'll--I'll make _sich_ an example of you,' meaning of Leather.
Mr.Sponge could not exactly say what he would do, for it was by no means a settled point whether Leather or he were master.

But to the hounds.