188 TOM DRAW'S VISIT TO PINE BROOK. 



" I dont doubt that at all, Tim ; natheless I'll be excused just 

 now." 



I was soon joined at the table by the fat man and Archer, 

 who were so busily employed in stowing away what Sir Dugald 

 Dalgetty terms pro van t, that few words passed between us. At 

 length when the furor edendi was partially suppressed : u Now 

 then, John," said Harry, " we are going to be here two days 

 to-morrow, that is, and to-day what are we to beat, so MS to 

 get ground for both days 1 Begin with the long meadow, I 

 suppose, and beat the vlies toward the small piece home, and 

 finish here before the door." 



"That's it, I reckon,'' answered the jolly Dutchman, " but 

 you knows pretty nigh as well as I can tell you." 



" Better, John, better, if I knew exactly how the ground was 

 but that will be the driest, won't it ?" 



" Sartain," replied the other, " but we'll get work enough 

 without beating the ground hereaways before the house ; we'll 

 keep that to begin upon to-morrow, and so follow up the big 

 meadow, and to Loises, and all along under the widow Mulford's, 

 if it holds dry to-day; and somehow now I kind o' guess it will. 

 There'll be a heap o' birds there by to-morrow they were a- 

 flyin' cur'ous, now, last night, I tell you." 



" Well, then, let us be moving. Where's the game-bag, 

 Timothy ? give it to John ! Is the brandy bottle in it, and the 

 luncheon ? hey ?" 



" Ay, ay ! Sur !'' answered Tim ; " t' brandy 's t' big wicker 

 bottle, wi' t' tin cup and soom cauld pork and crackers 'i 't 

 gam bagand a spare horn of powder, wi' a pund in 't. Here, 

 tak it, John Van Dyne, and mooch good may't do ye and 

 haud a bit, man ! here's t' dooble shot belt, sling it across your 

 shoulder, and awa wi' you." 



Everything being now prepared, and having ordered dinner 

 to be in readiness at seven, we lighted aur cigars and started ; 

 Harry, with the two setters trotting steadily at his heels, and 

 his gun on his shoulder, leading the way at a step that would 

 have cleared above five miles an hour, I following at my best 

 pace, Tom Draw puffing and blowing like a grampus in shoal 

 water, and John Van Dyne swinging along at a queer loping 

 trot behind me. We crossed the bridges and the causeway by 

 which we had arrived the previous night, passed through the 

 toll-gate, and, turning short to the right hand, followed a nar- 

 row sandy lane for some three quarters of a mile, till it turned 



