‘I mean, sir,’ again whispered his guide, ‘has the musket refused?’
‘Which, I suppose,’ responded the other, ‘is as much as to say, has it missed fire? Yes, certainly it has; did you not hear the snap in the pan?’
‘Yes, sir, but there was no fire; may be ’twas the fault of the flint.’
‘Pish, no; there is not a better flint on this side of the Grampians.’
‘But the pooder, sir?’
‘No better powder in the world, unless it has been damped by your horrid Highland mist.’
‘There’s no a mist at all the day, sir,’ answered Eachainn, looking quietly down at the gun lock, and discovering, for the first time, that there was no flint at all. He smiled aside, and then turning to the would-be sportsman, who was kneeling for another attempt, pointed out the circumstance to him. The latter, on seeing it, stared, and then added, apparently recollecting himself, ‘Dash it, neither there is! I recollect now, here it is, I put it in my waistcoat pocket this morning, while cleaning my gun, and forgot to fix it again.’ So saying, he screwed it tight into its proper place and kneeling as before, gave a second snap in the pan.
‘The primin’ fell oot when she first refused, sir, and you forgot to put in another.’
‘And ye gowk, couldn’t you tell me that before?’ said the wrathful gauger, as he recovered his arms for another attempt. This time, however, he was successful, for his volley levelled the cock leader and two of his family, while the remainder took flight.
‘I dare say, friend bare-legs, you do not often see such shots as that in these quarters?’