CHAPTER IV.
Shooting a Bird, and putting Shot into a Calf!
“ON'Y think ven ve thought o' getting into a preserve—that ve got into a pickle,” said Sprigg, still chuckling over their last adventure.
“Hush!” cried Grubb, laying his hand upon his arm—“see that bird hopping there?”
“Ve'll soon make him hop the twig, and no mistake,” remarked Spriggs.
“There he goes into the 'edge to get his dinner, I s'pose.”
“Looking for a 'edge-stake, I dare say,” said the facetious Spriggs.
“Now for it!” cried Grubb! “pitch into him!” and drawing his trigger he accidentally knocked off the bird, while Spriggs discharged the contents of his gun through the hedge.