FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS 101 



CHAPTEE XVII 



HOSTS GENERALLY 



LETTERS continue to pour in upon me. Here is 

 one from the gallant Shabrack : 



' Dear old Cock, I see you're still at the old 

 game, spoiling paper by the yard, and making us 

 all believe you know what's what when you've got 

 a bundook in your hands. Look here, my gay 

 quill-driver ; why don't you give us the tip what 

 we're to talk about on a wet day ? I'll take precious 

 short odds about your knowing how any lot of men 

 are to keep their tongues wagging when the rain's 

 soaking in at their knees, and running down behind 

 their collars, and when their boots go squelch at 

 every step. 'Tother day we started out grouse- 

 driving brilliant sunshine and all that kind of 

 thing, and three miles to the first butts. Before 

 we got there the sky was as black as old Melbury's 

 face when his wife gives him snuff before visitors, 

 and five minutes afterwards down came the rain, 



