in the open air, till he had filled one of the bags, they stood a

considerable chance of catching colds in their heads.

'Hi, Juno, lass-hi, old girl; down, Daph, down,' said Wardle, caressing

the dogs. 'Sir Geoffrey still in Scotland, of course, Martin?'

The tall gamekeeper replied in the affirmative, and looked with some

surprise from Mr Winkle, who was holding his gun as if he wished his

coat pocket to save him the trouble of pulling the trigger, to Mr

Tupman, who was holding his as if he was afraid of it - as there is no

earthly reason to doubt he really was.

My friends are not much in the way of this sort of thing yet, Martin,'

said Wardle, noticing the look. 'Live and learn, you know. They'll be

good shots one of these days. I beg my friend Winkle's pardon,

though; he has had some practice.'

Mr Winkle smiled feebly over his blue neckerchief in acknowledgment

of the compliment, and got himself so mysteriously entangled with his

gun, in his modest confusion, that if the piece had been loaded, he

must inevitably have shot himself dead upon the spot.

You mustn't handle your piece in that 'ere way, when you come to

have the charge in it, Sir,' said the tall gamekeeper gruffly; 'or I'm

damned if you won't make cold meat of some

on us.'

Mr Winkle, thus admonished, abruptly altered his position, and in so

doing, contrived to bring the barrel into pretty smart contact with Mr

Weller's head.

Hollo!' said Sam, picking up his hat, which had been knocked off, and

rubbing his temple. 'Hollo, sir! if you comes it this vay, you'll fill one o'

them bags, and something to spare, at one fire.'

Here the leather-legginged boy laughed very heartily, and then tried to

look as if it was somebody else, whereat Mr Winkle frowned

majestically.

Where did you tell the boy to meet us with the snack, Martin?'

inquired Wardle.

Side of One-tree Hill, at twelve o'clock, Sir.'

That's not Sir Geoffrey's land, is it?'

The Pickwick Papers