"Cleverly stopped, indeed!" Frank halloaed; "and by no means an easy
shot! and so our work's clean done for this place, at the least!"
"The boy can shoot some," observed Tom Draw, who loved to bother
Timothy; "the boy can shoot some, though he does come from Yorkshire!"
"Gad! and Ay wush Ay'd no but gotten thee i' Yorkshire, measter Draa!"
responded Tim.
"Why! what if you had got me there?"
"What? Whoy, Ay'd clap thee iv a cage, and hug thee round t' feasts and
fairs loike; and shew thee to t' folks at so mooch a head. Ay'se sure
Ay'd mak a fortune o' t!"
"He has you there, Tom! Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Archer. "Tim's down upon
you there, by George! Now, Frank, do fancy Tom Draw in a cage at
Borough-bridge or Catterick fair! Lord! how the folks would pay to look
at him! Fancy the sign board too! The Great American Man-Mammoth! Ha!
ha! ha! But come, we must not stay here talking nonsense, or we shall do
no good. Show me, Tim, where are the quail!"
"Doon t' bog meadow yonner! joost t' slack,* [*Slack--Yorkshire.
Anglice, Moist hollow] see thee, there!" pointing with the stout
black-thorn; "amang yon bits o' bushes!"
"Very well--that's it; now let go the setters; take Flash and Dan along
with you, and cut across the country as straight as you can go to the
spring head, where we lunched last year; that day, you know, Tom, when
McTavish frightened the bull out of the meadow, under the pin-oak tree.
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