Simpson's snipe 73 



" It's all right," I replied ; " you won t mind my 

 old-world stupidity." 



My guest's gun was a central-fire breech-loader 

 of Rigby's newest type, which he commenced to 

 prepare for action in what seemed to me to be a 

 very bungling sort of way. He dropped it twice, 

 and in releasing the barrels, brought them into very 

 violent collision with his head, which caused the 

 waters of anguish to roll silently down his cheeks 

 and on to his pointed moustache. If I had not 

 been aware of his manifold experiences in the 

 shooting line, I could have set him down as a man 

 who had never handled a gun in his life ; but 

 knowing his powers and prowess, I ascribed his 

 awkwardness to simple carelessness, a carelessness 

 in all probability due to the smallness of the game 

 of which he was now in pursuit. I therefore re- 

 frained from taking any notice, and from making 

 any observation until he deliberately proceeded to 

 thrust a patent cartridge into the muzzle of the 

 barrel of his central-fire. 



" Hold hard, Mr Simpson ; you are surely only 

 jesting." 



" Jesting ! How do you mean ? " 



"Why, using that cartridge in the way you are 

 doing." 



" What other way should I use it ? " 



