“My dear, it’s not a ‘thing’, it’s an animal,” growled Kenneth, trying to induce his wife to go home.
“Yes, but it is so dangerous, and only think, if it should get hold of you—and I know your headstrong courage will make you do something foolhardy—what is to become of me and Jessie?”
It was evident from the tone of McTavish’s reply that he did not care much what should become of either wife or daughter just then, for he saw that his male friends were laughing at him, but he was fortunately relieved by Jerry Goldboy coming up at the moment—with the blunderbuss on his shoulder—and informing Mrs McTavish that her “pet,” a lamb which had been recently purchased from one of the Tarka boers, was at large, with two or three hungry dogs looking earnestly at it!
The good lady at once forsook the old goat, and ran back with Jessie to the rescue of the pet lamb.
“What have ’ee putt i’ the ’buss?” asked Sandy Black of Jerry, with a sly look, as the latter joined the group of hunters.
“Well, d’you know, I ain’t quite sure,” replied Jerry in some confusion; “I—I was called out so suddenly that I ’ad scarce time to think.”
“Think!” repeated Black; “it doesna tak’ muckle time to think hoo to load a gun, but to be sure your gun is a pecooliar ane.”
“Well, you see,” returned Jerry, with the troubled look still on his countenance, “it does require a little consideration, because it would be useless to load with my ordinary charge of gravel for a lion. Then I feared to put in large stones, lest they should jam in the barrel an’ bu’st the hold thing. So I collected a lot of hold buttons and a few nails, besides two or three thimbles, but—”
“Weel,” said Black, as his friend paused, “thae sort o’ slugs wull at least gie the lion a peppery sort o’ feeling, if naethin’ waur.”
“Yes, but, d’you see,” continued Jerry, “there was a silver tea-spoon on the table when I made the collection of things, and after I had loaded I I couldn’t find the tea-spoon, and I fear—”