Father. 'Ow? Why, you notice which way he points his gun.
[The N. S. fires again—without results.
Small Boy. I sor that time, Father. He was a-aiming at one o' them ducks, an' he missed a rabbit! [The N. S. gives it up in disgust.
"GO IN, JIM! YOU GOT YER MARKIN'-PAPER READY ANYHOW."
Enter a small party of 'Arries in high spirits.
First 'Arry. 'Ullo! I'm on to this. 'Ere Guv'nor', 'and us a gun. I'll show yer 'ow to shoot!
[He takes up his position, in happy unconsciousness that playful companions have decorated his coat-collar behind with a long piece of white paper.
Second 'Arry. Go in, Jim! You got yer markin'-paper ready anyhow.
[Delighted guffaws from the other 'Arries, in which Jim joins vaguely.