FIRST COUNTRY BOOKS 133 



natural instinct could not be suppressed, but had better 

 be recognized, they produced a real gun (single barrel) 

 for me from the clock-case. 



' It stood on the landing just at the bottom of the dark 

 flight that led to the garret. An oaken case six feet high 

 or more, and a vast dial, with a mysterious picture of a 

 full moon and a ship in full sail that somehow indicated 

 the quarters of the year, if you had been imitating Rip 

 Van Winkle, and after a sleep of six months wanted to 

 know whether it was spring or autumn. But only to 

 think that, all the while we were puzzling over the moon 

 and the ship and the queer signs on the dial, a gun was 

 hidden inside ! The case was locked, it is true ; but 

 there are ways of opening locks, and we were always 

 handy with tools. This gun was almost, but not quite, 

 so long as the other. That dated from the time between 

 Stuart and Hanover ; this might not have been more 

 than seventy years old. And a beautiful piece of work- 

 manship it was : my new double breechloader is a coarse, 

 common thing to compare with it. Long and slender 

 and light as a feather, it came to the shoulder with 

 wonderful ease. Then there was a groove in the barrel 

 at the breech and for some inches up which caught the 

 eye and guided the glance like a trough to the sight at 

 the muzzle, and thence to the bird. The stock was shod 

 with brass, and the trigger-guard was of brass, with a 

 kind of flange stretching half-way down to the butt and 

 inserted in the wood. After a few minutes' polishing it 

 shone like gold, and to see the sunlight flash on it was 

 a joy. 



' You might note the grain of the barrel, for it had 

 not been browned ; and it took a good deal of sand to get 

 the rust off. By aid of a little oil and careful wiping 

 after a shower it was easy to keep it bright. Those 

 browned barrels only encourage idleness. The lock was 

 a trifle dull at first, simply from lack of use. A small 

 screw-driver soon had it to pieces, and it speedily clicked 

 again sweet as a flute. If the hammer came back 



