Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/106

64 64 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF

" Only to start the game," replied Mr. Wardie, laughing.

" To what ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick.

" Why, in plain English to frighten the rooks."

«0h! Is that all?"


 * ' You are satisfied ? "

" Quite."

" Very well. Shall I begin ? "

" If you please," said Mr. Winkle, glad of any respite.

" Stand aside, then. Now for it."

The boy shouted, and shook a branch with a nest on it. Half a dozen young rooks in violent conversation, flew out to ask what the matter was. The old gentleman fired by way of reply. Down fell one bird, and off flew the others.

" Take him up, Joe," said the old gentleman.

There was a smile upon the youth's face as he advanced. Indistinct visions of rook-pie floated through his imagination. He laughed as he retired with the bird — it was a plump one.

" Now, Mr. Winkle," said the host, reloading his own gun. " Fire away."

Mr. Winkle advanced, and levelled his gun. Mr. Pickwick and his friends cowered involuntarily to escape damage from the heavy fall of rooks, which they felt quite certain would be occasioned by the devastat- ing barrel of their friend. There was a solemn pause — a shout — a flapping of wings — a faint click.

" Hallo I " said the old gentleman.

" Won't it go ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick.

" Missed fire," said Mr. Winkle, who was very pale, probably from disappointment.

" Odd," said the old gentleman, taking the gun. " Never knew one of them miss fire before. Why, I don't see anything of the cap."

" Bless my soul," said Mr. Winkle. " I declare I forgot the cap I"

The slight omission was rectified. Mr. Pickwick crouched again. Mr. Winkle stepped forward with an air of determination and resolu- tion ; and Mr. Tupman looked out from behind a tree. The boy shouted ; — four birds flew out. Mr. Winkle fired. There was a scream as of an individual — not a rook — in corporeal anguish. Mr. Tupman had saved the lives of innumerable unofi'ending birds, by receiving a portion of the charge in his left arm.

To describe the confusion that ensued would be impossible. To tell how Mr. Pickwick in the first transports of his emotion called Mr. Winkle " Wretch I " how Mr. Tupman lay prostrate on the ground ; and how Mr. Winkle knelt horror-stricken beside him; how Mr. Tup- man called distractedly upon some feminine Christian name, and then opened first one eye, and then the other, and then fell back and shut them both ; — all this would be as difficult to describe in detail, as it would be to depict the gradual recovering of the unfortunate individual, the binding up his arm with pocket-handkerchiefs, and the conveying him back by slow degrees supported by the arms of his anxious friends.

They drew near the house. The ladies were at the garden-gate,