158 WARWICK WOODLANDS. 



stoutly, and kill well, unless he can give causes for effects 

 — unless he knows the haunts and habits both of his game 

 and his dogs — unless he can give a why for every where- 

 fore!" 



"Then devil a bit will you ever call me one," — answered 

 Frank — "For I can't be at the trouble of thinking about 

 it." 



"Stuff — humbug — folly" interrupted Archer — "you 

 know a great deal better than that — and so do we, too! — 

 you're only cranky! a little cranky, Frank, and given to 

 defending any folly you commit without either rhyme 

 or reason — as when you tried to persuade me that it is the 

 safest thing in nature to pour gunpowder out of a canister 

 into a pound flask, with a lighted cigar between your teeth ; 

 to demonstrate which you had scarcely screwed the top 

 of the horn on, before the lighted ashes fell all over it — 

 had they done so a moment sooner, we should all have 

 been blown out of the room." 



By this time, the Commodore had donned Harry's 

 winter jacket, and Frank, grumbling and paradoxizing all 

 the while, had loaded his rifle, and buttoned up his pea- 

 jacket, when in stalked Tom, swathed up to his chin in a 

 stout dreadnought coat. 



"What are ye lazin' here about!" he shouted, "you're 

 niver ready no how. Jem's been agone these two hours, 

 and we'll jest be too late, and miss gittin' a shot — if so be 

 there be a buck — which I'll be sworn there arn't I" 



"Ha! ha!" the Commodore burst out; "ha! ha! ha! I 

 should like to know which side the laziness has been on 

 this morning, Mister Draw." 



"On little wax skin's there," answered the old man, as 

 quick as lightning; "the little snoopin' critter carn't find 

 his gloves now; though the nags is at the door, and we all 

 ready. We'll drink, boys, while he's lookin' arter 'em — 

 and then when he's found them, and's jest a gittin' on his 

 horse, he'll find he's left his powder-horn or knife, or 

 somethin' else, behind him; and then we'll drink agin, 

 while he snoops back to fetch it." 



"You be hanged, you old rascal," replied Forester, a 

 little bothered by the huge shouts of laughter which 

 followed this most strictly accurate account of his accus- 

 tomed method of proceeding; an account which, by the 



