252 THE FIRE HUNTER. 



despondency. " I shouldn't like to pay for it out 

 of my wages, that's a fact. None but a fool would 

 inform against himself!" 



"You far from fool. Mass Slouch?" said Pom- 

 pey, slily. 



" I reckon I am," said Slouch ; and flinging off 

 the top rail from the fence, he drove the sharp point 

 of it into the side of the colt, e'er it had well ceased 

 to breathe; and, tickled at the idea of so inge- 

 niously covering his trail, thus continued aloud, 

 " He'll be a smart chap, now, that'll find out you 

 aint died of a snag ! the pea-field is so inviting 

 and it's so nat'ral for a young colt to leap the fence 

 after the green fodder ! Pompey ! keep this close, 

 and I'll make it up to you ! You needn't know 

 anything about it, nor miss the colt, till day after 

 to-morrow ; and, by then, I reckon, my shot-holes 

 will tell no tales !" And he chuckled, as he thought, 

 how the harpies (his allies) would, long before that 

 time, whet their beaks in the carcase of his victim, 

 and obliterate by their loathsome orgies, all traces 

 by which his participation in the death might be 

 detected : 



" Contactuque omnia foedant- 

 Immundo." 



In a few minutes, the worthies are on their way 



