"Birds shy?" says he.

"Werry;--ain't hit nothin'," says I.

"I'll tell you vot it is, young gentleman," says he, "it's the unevenness
o' the ground!"

"D've think so?" says I.

"Sure on it," says he; "I'm a hold sojer! Know this 'ere place, and have
picked up many a good dinner in it. Look at them fe'l'fares yonder,"
says he, "on'y let me have a slap at 'em for you, and see if I don't
finish some on 'em in the twinkling of a pig's visper."

In course I felt obleeged by sich a hoffer, and hands him the gun. Vell!
I vos a-follerin' him quite pleased, ven he visks round, and puttin' the
muzzle o' the hinstrument fist agin my vescoat, says he, "Now you've lent
us your gun, you may as vell lend us your votch. I can't shoot any think
for you till I sees vot's o'clock!"

Here vas a go!--but I see vot vas a clock in a hinstant--and no mistake.
So I cotch'd hold on the two butiful chased seals and tugs it out.

"That's the time o' day!" says he, a-cockin' his hugly heye at the dial;
"and now," says he, "as you seems frightened at the gun, I shall jist put
it out o' harm's way."

And with that he chucks it splash, into a duck-pond, and hoff marches my
hold sojer in a jiffy! I vos putrified! and fell to a-blubberin' like a