SOLD ! ' 203 



basin covered with a coating of ice, the morning as 

 black as one's hat, and my head aching and throbbing, 

 as though a 50-stamp quartz battery was at work therein. 

 But the chance of a shot with the stanchion-gun was not 

 to be missed, and after a sponge-down in the " ice-tub " 

 I felt almost fit enough to run another race against my 

 old bed-fellow, Bruin. 



Early though it was, upon going downstairs I found 

 my kindly hostess frying ham and eggs in the old-fashioned 

 inn kitchen, while Tundridge sat in a great arm-chair 

 thawing the snow from his heavy tuck-boots before the 

 huge driftwood fire, which blazed and crackled merrily 

 on the wide, open hearth. 



" There b'ain't no time to lose, maister, and we mean 

 to catch the best o j the young flood/' very thoughtfully 

 exclaimed Tom, as I settled down to my first rasher of 

 home-cured ham and steaming hot cup of coffee. 



Now, it may be remarked that the worthy old gunner 

 had just " wolfed " a large wedge of plum-pudding and 

 a pint or so of his favourite " nectar," purl; hence the 

 gentle hint to be up and doing. Upon my suggesting 

 that he should help me through with the ham and eggs, 

 however, he lost no time in bringing up alongside the 

 table, and right manfully did he wield both knife and 

 fork, beating me easily by three rashers and as many 

 eggs. This exciting match of trenchermanship finished, 

 I took my old 3in. 12-bore, cartridge bag, and a " pocket- 

 pistol," well charged with " The Golden Dolphin's 

 Special Fowling Powder," and, with Tom Tundridge 

 striding alongside, went crunching over the frozen snow, 

 which lay deep upon the cobble-stoned, crooked High- 

 street. But the quaint old fishing town of Oozeborough 



