Sketches by Seymour Part 4

Stubbs's pigs." And leaping the hedge he took the 'pork' in his arms, while the sportsmen who had used their arms so destructively now took to their legs for security. But ignorance of the locality led them into the midst of a village, and the stentorian shouts of the pig-bearer soon bringing a mult.i.tude at their heels, Mr. Richard Grubb was arrested in his flight. Seized fast by the collar, in the grasp of the butcher and constable of the place, all escape was vain. Spriggs kept a respectful distance.

"Now my fine fellow," cried he, brandis.h.i.+ng his staff, "you 'ither pays for that 'ere pig, or ve'll fix you in the cage."

Now the said cage not being a bird-cage, Mr. Richard Grubb could see no prospect of sport in it, and therefore fearfully demanded the price of the sucking innocent, declaring his readiness to 'sh.e.l.l out.'

Mr. Stubbs, the owner, stepped forward, and valued it at eighteen s.h.i.+llings.

"Vot! eighteen s.h.i.+llings for that 'ere little pig!" exclaimed the astounded sportsman. "Vy I could buy it in town for seven any day."

But Mr. Stubbs was obdurate, and declared that he would not 'bate a farden,' and seeing no remedy, Mr. Richard Grubb was compelled to 'melt a sovereign,' complaining loudly of the difference between country-fed and town pork!

Shouldering his gun, he joined his companion in arms, amid the jibes and jeers of the grinning rustics.

"Vell, I'm blowed if that ain't a cooler!" said he.

"Never mind, ve've made a hit at any rate," said the consoling Spriggs, "and ve've tried our metal."

"Yes, it's tried my metal preciously--changed a suv'rin to two bob! by jingo!"

"Let's turn Jews," said Spriggs, "and make a vow never to touch pork again!"

"Vot's the use o' that?"

"Vy, we shall save our bacon in future, to be sure," replied Spriggs, laughing, and Grubb joining in his merriment, they began to look about them, not for fresh pork, but for fresh game.

"No more shooting in the gra.s.s, mind!" said Grubb, "or ve shall have the blades upon us agin for another grunter p'r'aps. Our next haim must be at birds on the ving! No more forking out. Shooting a pig ain't no lark --that's poz!"

CHAPTER III.

The Sportsmen trespa.s.s on an Enclosure--Grubb gets on a paling and runs a risk of being impaled.

"Twig them trees?"--said Grubb.

"Prime!" exclaimed Spriggs, "and vith their leaves ve'll have an hunt there.--Don't you hear the birds a crying 'sveet,' 'sveet?' Thof all birds belong to the Temperance Society by natur', everybody knows as they're partic'larly fond of a little s'rub!"

"Think ve could leap the ditch?" said Mr. Richard, regarding with a longing look the tall trees and the thick underwood.

"Lauk! I'll over it in a jiffy," replied the elastic Mr. Spriggs there ain't no obelisk a sportsman can't overcome"--and no sooner had he uttered these encouraging words, than he made a spring, and came 'close-legged' upon the opposite bank; unfortunately, however, he lost his balance, and fell plump upon a huge stinging nettle, which would have been a treat to any donkey in the kingdom!

"Oh!--cuss the thing!" shrieked Mr. Spriggs, losing his equanimity with his equilibrium.

"Don't be in a pa.s.sion, Spriggs," said Grubb, laughing.

"Me in a pa.s.sion?--I'm not in a pa.s.sion--I'm on'y--on'y--nettled!"

replied he, recovering his legs and his good humour. Mr. Grubb, taking warning by his friend's slip, cautiously looked out for a narrower part of the ditch, and executed the saltatory transit with all the agility of a poodle.

They soon penetrated the thicket, and a bird hopped so near them, that they could not avoid hitting it.--Grubb fired, and Sprigg's gun echoed the report.

"Ve've done him!" cried Spriggs.

"Ve!--me, if you please."

"Vell--no matter," replied his chum, "you shot a bird, and I shot too!--Vot's that?--my heye, I hear a voice a hollering like winkin; --bolt!"

Away scampered Spriggs, and off ran Grubb, never stopping till he reached a high paling, which, hastily climbing, he found himself literally upon tenter-hooks.

"There's a man a coming, old fellow," said an urchin, grinning.

"A man coming! vich vay? do tell me vich vay?" supplicated the sportsman.

The little rogue, however, only stuck his thumb against his snub nose--winked, and ran off.

But Mr. Grubb was not long held in suspense; a volley of inelegant phrases saluted his ears, while the thong of a hunting-whip twisted playfully about his leg. Finding the play unequal, he wisely gave up the game--by dropping his bird on one side, and himself on the other; at the same time reluctantly leaving a portion of his nether garment behind him.

"Here you are!" cried his affectionate friend,--picking him up--"ain't you cotch'd it finely?"

"Ain't I, that's all?" said the almost breathless Mr. Grubb, "I'm almost dead."

"Dead!--nonsense--to be sure, you may say as how you're off the hooks!

and precious glad you ought to be."

"Gracious me! Spriggs, don't joke; it might ha' bin werry serious," said Mr. Grubb, with a most melancholy shake of the head:--"Do let's get out o' this wile place."

"Vy, vat the d.i.c.kins!" exclaimed Spriggs, "you ain't sewed up yet, are you?"

"No," replied Grubb, forcing a smile in spite of himself, "I vish I vos, Spriggs; for I 've got a terrible rent here!" delicately indicating the position of the fracture.

And hereupon the two friends resolving to make no further attempt at bush-ranging, made as precipitate a retreat as the tangled nature of the preserve permitted.

CHAPTER IV.

Shooting a Bird, and putting Shot into a Calf!

"On'y think ven ve thought o' getting into a preserve--that ve got into a pickle," said Sprigg, still chuckling over their last adventure.

"Hus.h.!.+" cried Grubb, laying his hand upon his arm--"see that bird hopping there?"

"Ve'll soon make him hop the twig, and no mistake," remarked Spriggs.

"There he goes into the 'edge to get his dinner, I s'pose."

"Looking for a 'edge-stake, I dare say," said the facetious Spriggs.