“Prime!” exclaimed Jack Saggers; and there was a general titter, and then he continued; “as we cannot let you off Sniggs, you most go on, you know.”
“Gentlemen,” resumed Sniggs, “I feel indeed so overloaded by the honors you have conferred on me, that I cannot find words to express my gratitude. I can only thank you, and express my sincere wish that your shots may always tell.”
And he sat down amidst unbounded applause. “By no means a-miss!” cried Jack Saggers.
“A joke of mine, when I knocked down a bird the other morning,” said Sniggs: “you must know I was out early, and had just brought down my bird, when leaping into the adjoining field to pick it up, a bird-catcher, who had spread his nets on the dewy grass, walked right up to me.”
“I've a visper for you, Sir,” says he, as cool as a cucumber; “I don't vish to be imperlite, but next time you shoots a bird vot I've brought to my call, I'll shoot you into a clay-pit, that's all!”
“And pray what did you say, Sniggs?” asked Jack Saggers.
“Say?—nothing! but I looked unutterable things, and—shouldering my piece—walked off!”
THE “CRACK-SHOTS.” No. II.
