"Not in the least, Master Samuel, at least, that I am aware of," was the reply.
"But what has happened?" cried the other, with an awful grimace.
"A very simple thing: you shot a deer, and in your eagerness to catch him you did not notice that you were on the summit of an eminence, and so rolled over, to the detriment of your bones."
"A very simple thing!" groaned the other; "You speak very complacently, Master George. Is anything broken?"
"Nothing. I examined you carefully—nothing but bruises, of that I am sure."
"Cursed deer! If I only had secured it. But the brute escaped me after all."
"No, my friend. You are too good a shot to miss your aim. There lies your game, quite dead."
"Thank goodness! That is lucky. But oh! Oh! I feel as if I had received a severe beating. Help me up."
"But had you not better rest a while?"
"Go to the deuce. I am not a whining sniggler, like my niece," he began; "by the way," he added, "that puts me in mind! Young man—"