"Here we are, or at least soon will be. It is but a short half mile
through these woods to Teachman's cottage. Is there a gun loaded, Tim?
It's ten to one we shall have a partridge fluttering up and treeing here
directly; I'll let the dogs out--get away, Flash! get away, Dan! you
little rascals. Jump out, good dogs, Shot, Chase--hie up with you!" and
out they went rattling and scrambling through the brush-wood all four
abreast!
At the same moment Tim, leaning over into the body of the wagon, lugged
out a brace of guns from their leathern cases; Harry's short ounce ball
rifle, and the long single barreled duck gun.
"'T roifle is loaden wi' a single ball, and 't single goon wi' yan of
them green cartridges!"
"Much good ball and buck-shot will do us against partridge;
nevertheless, if one trees, I'll try if I can't cut his head off for
him," said Archer, laughing.
"Nay! nay! it be-ant book-shot; it's no but noomber three; tak' haud
on't, Measter Draa, tak' haud on't. It's no hoort thee, mon, and 't
horses boath stand foire cannily!"
Scarce had Fat Tom obeyed his imperative solicitations, and scarce had
Tim taken hold of the ribbands which Harry relinquished the moment he
got the rifle into his hands, before a most extraordinary hubbub arose
in the little skirt of coppice to our left; the spaniels quested for a
second's space at the utmost, when a tremendous crash of the branches
arose, and both the setters gave tongue furiously with a quick savage
yell.
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