No one objected, so each boy filled the fustian bag he carried full of stones; they crossed into the next field, Tom and East taking one side of the hedges, and the other two the other side. Noise enough they made certainly, but it was too early in the season for the young birds, and the old birds were too strong on the wing for our young marksmen, and flew out of shot after the first discharge. But it was great fun, rushing along the hedgerows, and discharging stone after stone at blackbirds and chaffinches,[14] though no result in the shape of slaughtered birds was obtained; and Arthur soon entered into it, and rushed to head back the birds, and shouted, and threw, and tumbled into ditches and over and through hedges, as wild as the Madman himself.
Presently the party, in full cry after an old blackbird (who was evidently used to the thing and enjoyed the fun, for he would wait till they came close to him and then fly on for forty yards or so; and with an impudent flicker of his tail, dart into the depths of the quickset),[15] came beating down a high double hedge, two on each side.
"There he is again;" "Head him;" "Let drive;" "I had him there;" "Take care where you're throwing, Madman;" the shouts might have been heard a quarter of a mile off. They were heard some two hundred yards off by a farmer and two of his shepherds, who were doctoring sheep in a fold in the next field.
WHAT IS LARCENY?
Now the farmer in question rented a house and yard situated at the end of the field in which the young bird-fanciers had arrived, which house and yard he didn't occupy or keep any one else in. Nevertheless, like a brainless and unreasoning Briton, he persisted in maintaining on the premises a large stock of cocks, hens, and other poultry. Of course all sorts of depredators visited the place from time to time; foxes and gipsies wrought havoc in the night; while in the day-time, I regret to have to confess, that visits from the Rugby boys, and consequent disappearances of ancient and respectable fowls, were not unfrequent. Tom and East had during the period of their outlawry visited the barn in question for felonious[16] purposes, and on one occasion had conquered and slain a duck there and borne away the carcass triumphantly, hidden in their handkerchiefs. However, they were sickened of the practice by the trouble and anxiety which the wretched duck's body caused them. They carried it to Sally Harrowell's, in hopes of a good supper; but she, after examining it, made a long face, and refused to dress or have anything to do with it.
THE TROUBLESOME DUCK.
Then they took it into their study, and began plucking it themselves; but what to do with the feathers, where to hide them?
"Good gracious, Tom, what a lot of feathers a duck has!" groaned East, holding a bag full in his hand, and looking disconsolately at the carcass, not yet half plucked.
"And I do think he's getting high,[17] too, already," said Tom, smelling at him cautiously, "so we must finish him up soon."
"Yes, all very well, but how are we to cook him? I'm sure I'm not going to try it on in the hall or passages; we can't afford to be roasting ducks about, our character's too bad."