“Shure, sor, everybody else learns how to shute, and I thought I’d like to be able to shute a line or a hippo—what’s his name, or any other of the savage bastes if they came near the waggon while ye were away.”
“Well, Dinny, I have no objection, if you promise to be careful.”
“But I want one o’ them that shutes big bullets, sor, and not the little pishtol things that only shutes small shot, sor.”
“You shall have a good rifle, Dinny,” said his master. “Dick, get the Snider—the short Snider—out of the waggon, and give him twenty cartridges.”
This was done, and the rifle placed in Dinny’s hands.
“You must be very careful how you shoot with it, Dinny,” said Mr Rogers.
“Shure and I will, sor.”
“But be particularly careful not to fire in the direction where any one is coming. Remember a Snider is dangerous at a mile.”
“Is it now?” said Dinny. “But shure, sor, I want a gun, and I don’t care for your Sniders at all. What’s a Snider to do wid me? It’s a gun I want.”
“To kill wild beasts, Dinny?”