128 BEATING THE SPRINGS AND THE WOOD. 



" Well, Joe, I had scarce time as yet." 

 "What, not time to kill a hare? Now, 

 Redmond, what has Bill Sliney there in the 

 bag? Bill, you rascal, come here and show 



me." 



" Begor, and 'tis a fine puss, sure enough," 

 remarks Mr. Sliney, with a grin, as he . pulls 

 out of the capacious wallet slung on his shoul- 

 der, a hare of calf-like proportions. 



Redmond and my uncle laughed heartily; 

 the former was death on fur, and my uncle 

 placed a joco.se interdict on his shooting hares, 

 which his friend treated with an indifference 

 which served as a standing joke between them. 



The sun was now bright, too bright indeed. 

 The fields glistened and sparkled in the frost, 

 and the mere exercise of walking was a de- 

 licious sensation. 



We pass on to where a green patch of 

 grass shows that the water is unfrozen about it. 

 " Look out here for a snipe I" cries my uncle. 

 " Staunton, you go forward, and try what you 

 can do." 



Fred steps in front, my uncle keeping a 

 close watch on the little morass. 



