812 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



Making use of some very strong expressions, such as he would 

 not make use of at a chapel tea-meeting, the keeper dashes into 

 the thicket, followed by Jim ; quickly they reach the spot, where 

 they see a confused mass of living matter, turning and twisting, 

 growling, whining, and snapping, at their feet. 



" I'll murder ye, you old varmint ! Look out, Jim ! Cuss an 



hang him ! I can't git a stroke at him ! Why the here they 



are ; what's up now ? Ginger ! Gin ' r ! loose him ! Ginger ! 

 he'll rip ye up in bits. Let me smasl tim ! " 



: ' Here he is ; hold hard, master ! ye nearly had 'im ; hold 

 hard ! " 



' Well, if ever I take my tarriers ! Oh dear ! oh dear ! if there 

 ain't Nipper ; he's done for. Hold him, Jim ; don't ye let him out 

 o' yer arms, for mercy sake. Now, then, here they are ; now fur 

 it, one way or t'other. This is the wust night's work as ever I 

 come across. Jim ! Jim ! where be ye ? " 



" In this 'ere tangle ; I'm comin' fast as I can." 



" Have ye got Nipper ? " 



" Yes, I got un." 



" He's a dunner, ain't he ? " 



''' No, he ain't ; it's tight work fur me to hold him ! " 



;e Don't ye let him go ; here they be, dead as herrins ! Oh dear, 

 Ginger ! if I ain't wound up clean ! Never agin will I see your 

 feller. If it waunt fur the shame on it, I could fairly beller ! I 

 be cut up, an' no mistake." 



: ' Pick him up, master ! you'll hev to loose his holt, for dead as 

 he be he's got him under the ear. This 'ere night's work about 

 winds my pig up, I can tell ye." 



Picking Ginger up, and holding him in his arms, the keeper 

 stood in silence. Presently a slight movement took place in the 

 body of the terrier, and with a low whimper and one long-drawn 

 breath he opened his eyes, and then licked the face of his master. 



" Jim ! hoora ! houra ! Ginger's alive ; oh, my precious Gin- 

 ger ! oh, ain't you tore about ! Give us Nipper, an' shove that 

 cusnation warmint in the sack, an' let's git back fur to doctor 

 these 'ere poor things. We'll git 'em round, if 'tis to be done. 

 Look 'ere, Jim, did ye ever ? they ain't hurt much ; they're tryin' 

 their werry hardest ter get out o' my hands ter hev another go at 

 him ! I don't think as there's sich another pair o' tarriers as 

 these 'ere two, no, not nowheres : there can't be ! Ye've got that 

 murderin' warmint ?" 



" Yes, he's in the sack." 



"Then look sharp! we'll cut out <>' this ; come on! an' next 

 time as master wants a badger fur one o' his friends, somebody 

 else's tarriers '11 hev to drive un. The fust one as we got out was 

 that old warmint's missus an' her cubs. That was a diggin' job, 



