"For it's my opinion, sir," said one of the men wisely, as they placed her in the basket, "that her 'll not get over this. I've seen 'em took like this before; and they never live."
"Then kill her mercifully, by all means," the Squire answered him; "and end her sufferings."
And they continued on their way.
[CHAPTER X.]
THE INQUEST.
"THAT'S two geese lost this spring," observed one of the men next morning, as the injured bird breathed her last under his hand. "Warn't the governor mad!"
And so he was. He cursed, he swore, he raged; he would have stamped, had not his infirmity prevented it. Above all, he felt deeply injured that his gout prevented him from going out to see after things himself; for when he used to be about, such casualties never happened. Being tied to his chair, however, and having now one hand bad, in addition to his feet, he could use nothing more violent than his tongue.
And at length, the men, having listened as long as they thought necessary, to his stream of abuse, carried out the goose to execute their mournful duty.
Left to himself, Farmer Bluff gradually cooled down; and as he cooled, certain words of Hal's came back to mind. This gout, Hal had said, was of his own seeking. If so, it was his own fault that he had lost the geese. Farmer Bluff instinctively reached out his sound hand for the silver mug, and having drained it of its contents, fell into a brown study.