“You don’t think much of the place,” said Tom good-humouredly; “but you’d like it if you lived here. There’s capital fishing in the river, and the fir-woods swarm with rabbits. Walnut-wood,” he added, as his cousin examined the bureau. “Uncle says the brass-work is very old and curious, nearly two hundred years, he thinks.”
“Got a gun?” said Sam, turning sharply away.
“No.”
“Can’t you get one? We might go and shoot a few rabbits.”
“I don’t know whether we could even if there was a gun. They are preserved about here like the hares and pheasants.”
“There are no hares about here?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve seen several and made them run.”
“But no pheasants?”
“Plenty, and as tame as can be. I saw one the other day in our field.”
“Here, let’s go for a walk,” said Sam, the real boyish nature coming out at last. “I rather like sport, and shall buy a double gun shortly.”