Simpson's snipe 75 



" Xotbin', barrin' a crow," observed Billy. 



" A plover, sir ; it was the cry of a plover," 

 evasively retorted the other. 



" Holy Vargiii ! do ye hear this ? A pluvver ! 

 Divvle resave the pluvver ever was seen in the 

 barony !" 



" Silence, Doyle ! " I shouted, finding that my 

 retainer's observations were becoming personal and 

 unpleasant. 



" Troth, we'll all be silent enough by-an'-by." 



We had been walking for about half an hour, 

 when Mr Simpson suggested that it might be 

 advisable to separate, he taking one direction, I 

 taking the other, but both moving in parallel lines. 

 Having joyfully assented to this proposition, as the 

 careless manner in which he handled his gun was 

 fraught with the direst consequences, I moved into 

 an adjacent bog, leaving my guest to blaze away at 

 what I considered a safe distance. I took Billy 

 with me, both for company and for counsel, as my 

 guest's assumed ignorance of the fundamental prin- 

 ciples of shooting had somewhat puzzled me. 



" It's a quare bisniss intirely, Masther Jim. He 

 knows no more how to howld a gun nor you do to 

 howld a baby, more betoken ye've two av the finest 

 childre — God be good to them ! — in Europe. I 

 don't like for to say he's coddin' us, wud his tigers 



