Now let loose the dogs--carry a pair of couples and a
leash along with you; and mind you, gentlemen, Tim carries shot for all
hands; and luncheon--but each one finds his own powder, caps, &c.; and
any one who wants a dram, carries his own--the devil a-one of you gets a
sup out of my bottle, or a charge out of my flask! That's right, old
Trojan, isn't it?" with a good slap on Tom's broad shoulder.
"Shot! Shot--why Shot! don't you know me, old dog?" cried Tom, as the
two setters bounded into the room, joyful at their release--"good dog!
good Chase!" feeding them with great lumps of beef.
"Avast! there Tom--have done with that," cried Harry; "you'll have the
dogs so full that they can't run."
"Why, how'd you like to hunt all day without your breakfast--hey?"
"Here, lads! here, lads! wh-e-ew!" and followed by his setters, with his
gun under his arm, away went Harry; and catching up our pieces likewise,
we followed, nothing loth, Tim bringing up the rear with the two
spaniels fretting in their couples, and a huge black thorn cudgel, which
he had brought, as he informed me, "all t' way from bonny Cawoods."
It was as beautiful a morning as ever lighted sportsmen to their labors.
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