“I should rather think not,” replied I. “The gun belongs to us, and not to you;” and I caught up the gun, and presented the muzzle at him.
“What! do you mean to commit murder? Why, you young villains!”
“Do you want to commit a robbery?” retorted I, fiercely; “because if you do, I mean to commit murder. Then I shoot him. Tom.”
“No, Jacob, no; you mustn’t shoot men,” replied Tom, who perceived that I was in a humour to keep my word with the common-keeper. “Indeed, you can’t,” continued he, whispering to me; “the gun’s not loaded.”
“Do you mean to refuse to give me up your gun?” repeated the man.
“Yes I do,” replied I, cocking the lock; “so keep off.”
“Oh! you young reprobates—you’ll come to the gallows before long, that’s certain. Do you refuse to come with me?”
“I should rather think we do,” replied I.
“You refuse, do you? Recollect I’ve caught you in the fact, poaching, with a dead hare in your possession.”
“Well, it’s no use crying about it. What’s done can’t be helped,” replied I.