he said, but he sent the whole charge right into Martin's
back--Martin was my comrade's name. By good luck
Martin had on a thick leather coat, so the shot niver
got the length o' his skin."
"One day I noticed that the natter-list had stuffed
small corks into the muzzles of all the six barrels of his
revolver. I wondered what they wos for, but he wos
al'ays doin' sich queer things that I soon forgot it.
'Maybe,' thought I, jist before it went out o' my mind--'maybe
he thinks that'll stop the pistol from goin'