Hush, can't you?' replied Wardle softly. 'Don't you see, they're making

a point?'

Making a point!' said Mr Winkle, staring about him, as if he expected

to discover some particular beauty in the landscape, which the

sagacious animals were calling special attention to. 'Making a point!

What are they pointing at?'

Keep your eyes open,' said Wardle, not heeding the question in the

excitement of the moment. 'Now then.'

There was a sharp whirring noise, that made Mr Winkle start back as

if he had been shot himself. Bang, bang, went a couple of guns - the

smoke swept quickly away over the field, and curled into the air.

Where are they!' said Mr Winkle, in a state of the highest excitement,

turning round and round in all directions. 'Where are they? Tell me

when to fire. Where are they - where are they?'

Where are they!' said Wardle, taking up a brace of birds which the

dogs had deposited at his feet. 'Why, here they are.'

No, no; I mean the others,' said the bewildered Winkle.

Far enough off, by this time,' replied Wardle, coolly reloading his gun.

We shall very likely be up with another covey in five minutes,' said the

long gamekeeper. 'If the gentleman begins to fire now, perhaps he'll

just get the shot out of the barrel by the time they rise.'

'Ha! ha! ha!' roared Mr Weller.

'Sam,' said Mr Pickwick, compassionating his follower's confusion and

embarrassment.

Sir.'

Don't laugh.'

Certainly not, Sir.' So, by way of indemnification, Mr Weller contorted

his features from behind the wheel-barrow, for the exclusive

amusement of the boy with the leggings, who thereupon burst into a

boisterous laugh, and was summarily cuffed by the long gamekeeper,

who wanted a pretext for turning round, to hide his own merriment.

Bravo, old fellow!' said Wardle to Mr Tupman; 'you fired that time, at

all events.'

The Pickwick Papers