This was very considerate and flattering; and I heartily hoped that by some fluke or other we might be enabled to make a bag.
When we arrived upon the shooting-ground, I observed that it was time to load; and calling up Billy Doyle with the guns, I proceeded to carry my precept into practice. My weapon was an old-fashioned muzzle-loader, one of Truelock & Harris's; and as I went through the process of loading, I could see that Mr Simpson was regarding my movements with a careful and critical eye.
"I know that you swells despise this sort of thing," I remarked; "but I have dropped a good many birds with this gun at pretty long ranges, and have wiped the eyes of many a breech-loading party."
"I—I like that sort of gun," said Simpson. "I'd be glad if you'd take this," presenting his, with both barrels covering me.
"Good heavens, don't do that!" I cried, shoving the muzzle aside.
"What—what—" he cried, whirling round like a teetotum—"what have I done?"
"Nothing as yet; but I hate to have the muzzle of a gun turned towards me since the day I saw poor cousin Jack's brains blown out."
"What am I to do?" exclaimed Simpson. "I'll do anything."
"It's all right," I replied; "you won't mind my old-world stupidity."
My guest's gun was a central-fire breech-loader of Rigby's newest type, which he commenced to prepare for action in what seemed to me to be a very bungling sort of way. He dropped it twice, and in releasing the barrels, brought them into very violent collision with his head, which caused the waters of anguish to roll silently down his cheeks and on to his pointed moustache. If I had not been aware of his manifold experiences in the shooting line, I could have set him down as a man who had never handled a gun in his life; but knowing his powers and prowess, I ascribed his awkwardness to simple carelessness, a carelessness in all probability due to the smallness of the game of which he was now in pursuit. I therefore refrained from taking any notice, and from making any observation until he deliberately proceeded to thrust a patent cartridge into the muzzle of the barrel of his central-fire.