Sketches by Seymour Part 5

"Now for it!" cried Grubb! "pitch into him!" and drawing his trigger he accidentally knocked off the bird, while Spriggs discharged the contents of his gun through the hedge.

"Hit summat at last!" exclaimed the delighted Grubb, scampering towards the th.o.r.n.y barrier, and clambering up, he peeped into an adjoining garden.

"Will you have the goodness to hand me that little bird I've just shot off your 'edge," said he to a gardener, who was leaning on his spade and holding his right leg in his hand.

"You fool," cried the horticulturist, "you've done a precious job--You've shot me right in the leg--O dear! O dear! how it pains!"

"I'm werry sorry--take the bird for your pains," replied Grubb, and apprehending another pig in a poke, he bobbed down and retreated as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Vot's frightened you?" demanded Spriggs, trotting off beside his chum, "You ain't done nothing, have you?"

"On'y shot a man, that's all."

"The devil!"

"It's true--and there'll be the devil to pay if ve're cotched, I can tell you--'Vy the gardener vill swear as it's a reg'lar plant!--and there von't be no damages at all, if so be he says he can't do no work, and is obleeged to keep his bed--so mizzle!" With the imaginary noises of a hot pursuit at their heels, they leaped hedge, ditch, and style without daring to cast a look behind them--and it was not until they had put two good miles of cultivated land between them and the spot of their unfortunate exploit that they ventured to wheel about and breathe again.

"Vell, if this 'ere ain't a rum go!"--said Spriggs--"in four shots--ve've killed a pig--knocked the life out o' one d.i.c.ky-bird--and put a whole charge into a calf. Vy, if ve go on at this rate we shall certainly be taken up and get a setting down in the twinkling of a bed-post!"

"See if I haim at any think agin but vot's sitting on a rail or a post"

--said Mr. Richard--"or s'pose Spriggs you goes on von side of an 'edge and me on t'other--and ve'll get the game between us--and then--"

"Thankye for me, d.i.c.k," interrupted Spriggs, "but that'll be a sort o'

cross-fire that I sha'n't relish no how.--Vy it'll be just for all the world like fighting a jewel--on'y ve shall exchange shots--p'r'aps vithout any manner o' satisfaction to 'ither on' us. No--no--let's shoot beside von another--for if ve're beside ourselves ve may commit suicide."

"My vig!" cries Mr. Grubb, "there's a covey on 'em."

"Vere?"

"There!"

"Charge 'em, my lad."

"Stop! fust charge our pieces."

Having performed this preliminary act, the sportsmen crouched in a dry ditch and crawled stealthily along in order to approach the tempting covey as near as possible.

Up flew the birds, and with trembling hands they simultaneously touched the triggers.

"Ve've nicked some on 'em."

"Dead as nits," said Spriggs.

"Don't be in an hurry now," said the cautious Mr. Grubb, "ve don't know for certain yet, vot ve hav'n't hit."

"It can't be nothin' but a balloon then," replied Spriggs, "for ve on'y fired in the hair I'll take my 'davy."

Turning to the right and the left and observing nothing, they boldly advanced in order to appropriate the spoil.

"Here's feathers at any rate," said Spriggs, "ve've blown him to s.h.i.+vers, by jingo!"

"And here's a bird! hooray!" cried the delighted Grubb--"and look'ee, here's another--two whole 'uns--and all them remnants going for nothing as the linen-drapers has it!"

"Vot are they, d.i.c.k?" inquired Spriggs, whose ornithological knowledge was limited to domestic poultry; "sich voppers ain't robins or sparrers, I take it."

"Vy!" said the dubious Mr. Richard-resting on his gun and throwing one leg negligently over the other--"I do think they're plovers, or larks, or summat of that kind."

"Vot's in a name; the thing ve call a duck by any other name vould heat as vell!" declaimed Spriggs, parodying the immortal Shakspeare.

"Talking o' heating, Spriggs--I'm rayther peckish--my stomick's bin a-crying cupboard for a hour past.--Let's look hout for a hinn!"

CHAPTER V.

An extraordinary Occurrence--a Publican taking Orders.

Tying the legs of the birds together with a piece of string, Spriggs proudly carried them along, dangling at his fingers' ends.

After tramping for a long mile, the friends at length discovered, what they termed, an house of "hentertainment."

Entering a parlour, with a clean, sanded floor, (prettily herring-boned, as the housemaids technically phrase it,) furnished with red curtains, half a dozen beech chairs, three cast-iron spittoons, and a beer-bleached mahogany table,--Spriggs tugged at the bell. The host, with a rotund, smiling face, his nose, like Bardolph's, blazing with fiery meteors, and a short, white ap.r.o.n, concealing his unmentionables, quickly answered the tintinabulary summons.

"Landlord," said Spriggs, who had seated himself in a chair, while Mr.

Richard was adjusting his starched collar at the window;--"Landlord! ve should like to have this 'ere game dressed."

The Landlord eyed the 'game' through his spectacles, and smiled.

"Roasted, or biled, Sir?" demanded he.

"Biled?--no:--roasted, to be sure!" replied Spriggs, amazed at his pretended obtuseness: "and, I say, landlord, you can let us have plenty o' nice wedgetables."

"Greens?" said the host;--but whether alluding to the verdant character of his guests, or merely making a polite inquiry as to the article they desired, it was impossible, from his tone and manner, to divine.

"Greens!" echoed Spriggs, indignantly; "no:--peas and 'taters."

"Directly, Sir," replied the landlord; and taking charge of the two leetle birds, he departed, to prepare them for the table.

"Vot a rum cove that 'ere is," said Grubb.

"Double stout, eh?" said Spriggs, and then they both fell to a-laughing; and certain it is, that, although the artist has only given us a draught of the landlord, he was a subject sufficient for a b.u.t.t!

"Vell! I must, say," said Grubb, stretching his weary legs under the mahogany, "I never did spend sich a pleasant day afore--never!"

"Nor I," chimed in Spriggs, "and many a day ven I'm a chopping up the 'lump' shall I think on it. It's ralely bin a hout and houter! Lauk!

how Suke vill open her heyes, to be sure, ven I inform her how ve've bin out with two real guns, and kill'd our own dinner. I'm bless'd if she'll swallow it!"