Long Tails and Short Ones. 71 



a sparkling brooklet at the bottom ; now away through a natural tunnel of 

 verdure of Nature's own devising, with its peep of blue sky at the far end, 

 and alternate slants of sunshine and shade breaking through upon the ferns 

 and glorious heather beneath. Rarely have I set eye upon a lovelier scene 

 than surrounded our merry luncheon party. 



" No Fipps as yet, Johnson ! I expect he's nailed for the day at 

 Snigswig. Fipps and Fippeny is about the size of it;" but Johnson shook 

 his head doubtfully. Fipps was not a subject to joke on ; for Fipps was no 

 joke to poor Johnson, who would have been haj)py to homicide Fipps if he 

 could have found any decent excuse for it. 



Lunch over, and the ten minutes allowed for refreshment tobacco-wise 

 being consumed, we took in fresh cartridges and made tracks. 



"Where next, Johnson? " Bask'ville Copse, sir. I sent Jem on with 

 the net to stop hevery think back as we can, 'cause that's Fipp's t'other side. 

 Muster F. and you'll take the houtside along 'tween the ride and bank, and 

 please don't go'n send nothin' you can't 'elp to Fipps, and please don't 'e set 

 foot on his land. Muster F., or he'll summons 'e for sartin. 



For some time all went well. There was plenty of stuff, &c., of one sort 

 and another, and we bagged a fair share, little going Fippsward ; but I had 

 the cock in my mind, and was looking out sharp for him. Five minutes 

 after crossing a gully we struggled on to a bank, where stood some hollies. 

 Tap — tap — rustle. "Mark cock!" sMeked Johnson. Bang — bang! 

 "Missed, by the Lord!" "Mark cock!" yelled Raymond. Then I 

 glimpsed him tlirough the tree tops — bang ! " Missed him, by George ! " 

 Another glimpse — bang ! " Missed him clean, by Jingo ! O Lor' ! O Lor' 1 

 and the first cock of the season, and I might have been a par. in the papers 

 too. "Mark cock ! " I shouted. Bang ! — a solitary barrel, and outside the 

 covert ! what could that portend ? I rushed to the hedge and looked out, 

 and there was an ugly beast, in a brown velveteen shooting coat, and drab 

 gaiters to the knee, with a dishevelled, ragged, diabolic-looking spaniel at his 

 heels, picking up our cock, as I live and sin. 



"Fipps, the poacher, by all that's wonderful!" I exclaimed. 



" Fipps and his dorg, by all that's damnable !" groaned Johnson over 

 my shoulder, paraphrasing Sir Peter Teazle in the screen scene. 



