"There!"
"Charge 'em, my lad."
"Stop! fust charge our pieces."
Having performed this preliminary act, the sportsmen crouched in a dry ditch and crawled stealthily along in order to approach the tempting covey as near as possible.
Up flew the birds, and with trembling hands they simultaneously touched the triggers.
"Ve've nicked some on 'em."
"Dead as nits," said Spriggs.
"Don't be in an hurry now," said the cautious Mr. Grubb, "ve don't know for certain yet, vot ve hav'n't hit."
"It can't be nothin' but a balloon then," replied Spriggs, "for ve on'y fired in the hair I'll take my 'davy."
Turning to the right and the left and observing nothing, they boldly advanced in order to appropriate the spoil.