"Rather a queer customer, isn't he?" said my host; "but I have known him more than ten years now, and got ten times as fond of him every year. He is the kindest-hearted fellow I ever came across; and there is scarcely anything he cannot do. He is well-known in London; he might be Professor of this, that, and the other. But he has not a particle of ambition, though he values his profession mightily. He is fond of money, of course; but chiefly for the sake of his widowed mother, and two sisters whom he supports. You know that old Chalker of Cobstone Hill went the way of all flesh last month, leaving a large practice, all abroad. Well, I persuaded Hopmann to take to it, for they were paying him shamefully in London, for a lot of work at one of the hospitals. He has only been here about a fortnight yet, but he is sure to get on; he must get on; nothing comes amiss to him. And I want you to help him, wherever you can: you need have no fear, he is quite tip-top—too good a great deal for a country practice. But he would never do in London; he is too honest—sees through any humbug in a moment, and would tell the patient so, though he were of the Royal family. But you should see Hopmann with some old woman, who will never say 'thank you,' or pay him sixpence. That is what I admire in a man; and that tells for him too in the end, you may be sure. But come along, he is calling us, and he will be in a fury, if we let all his beautiful cookery spoil. All right, Hopmann, hop along, old fellow. A metal dish apiece for us, piping hot."
"And ze last baird, he stay here and keep hot himself! And he become ze property of ze first gent zat is ready. Now, Mr. Cranleigh, you tell truth! You never taste bartrich before. For why? Because you cannot cook them in this land. You take away everyting that gives what you call ze flavour, that penetrates ze whole system of ze baird. Ach! I will cook again for you, you shall see. Shackson is not half so wise."
I was fortunate enough to please him, and not in words alone, for the effect of my bit of lunch had quite worn off. In a very short time (as happens now and then when two men widely different in their main lines meet) our little corners, which are the clinging points, had fitted very nicely into one another; and I longed to know more of the man, because I knew so much of him already. For who cares to get nearer to a man who keeps his distance?
"Hopmann is a queer fellow in his way, but in a very good sort of a way," said Jackson Stoneman, as we two filled our pipes, and he lit his half-a-crown cigar, which I would not have smoked for half-a-crown; "I am glad to see you enter into each other's merits. Now, will you fall in with a little plan which I have conceived for the good of us all? My German friend is an excellent shot. He can knock a bird over, as well as he can cook it. He was out with us on the first, when George Cranleigh would not come. Two or three swells were inclined to laugh, but he very soon turned the laugh on them. Garrod said that he never saw such a hand, which was not very graceful to the man who pays his wages. I have not yet found anything that Hopmann cannot do."
"Shackson, there are two tings vot he cannot do. He cannot ride very well ze horse, and he cannot listen to his own braises."
"Never mind, he will very soon learn both accomplishments, and then he will be absolutely perfect. But we have a little campaign in view for the day after to-morrow. We have only been round the outskirts yet, we have not touched the best part of the shooting. Herr Doctor, will you come with your 16-bore, that wiped the eye of several of our thundering twelves, and show us straight powder on Thursday?"
"I vill only come on ze onderstandings of before—that all ze bairds I do shoot shall belong to me, to take home."
"You shall carry off, and cook with their trails in, every blessed bird you knock over. And now about you, George. I have never seen you shoot, but I hear you are very good. Are you afraid to try your hand against this mighty German?"
This put me a little on my mettle, as was meant. Not that I ever cared to shoot in competition; for that, as with fishing or any other friendly sport, to my mind kills the enjoyment. Moreover I had refused Stoneman's invitation, from a sort of pride—a very false pride it might be—about walking by his leave upon land that had been ours. And I had taken no certificate this year.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," I said. "I won't bring my gun, for I have taken no licence, and I would not shoot without. But I'll come and work the dogs for you; they know me as well as they know Garrod, and I shall enjoy it quite as much."