"By Jove!" cried I, "but this is something like--where the deuce did you
pick the snipe up, Harry--and, above all, why the deuce did you let me
lie wallowing in bed this lovely morning?"
"One question at a time," responded he, "good Master Frank; one question
at a time. For the snipe, I found them very unexpectedly, I tell you, in
a bit of marshy meadow just at the outlet of the pond. Garry was
paddling me along at the top of his pace, after a wing-tipped wood-duck,
when up jumped one of the long-billed rascals, and had the impudence to
skim across the creek under my very nose--'skeap! skeap!' Well, I
dropped him, you may be sure, with a charge, too, of duck shot; and he
fell some ten yards over on the meadow; so leaving Garry to pursue the
drake, I landed, loaded my gun with No. 9, and went to work--the result
as you see; but I cleared the meadow--devil a bird is left there, except
one I cut to pieces, and could not find for want of Chase--two went away
without a shot, over the hills and far away. As for letting you lie in
bed, you must talk to Tom about it; I bid him call you, and the fat
rascal never did so, and never said a word about you, till we were ready
for a start, and then no Master Frank was to the fore.
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