"He 's giv oop the ghost; darng his carkus!" cried Tom, as he poked the dead body in the corner.
"Well, let 's have a look at un," said Tooler, "let 's see what the warment is like."
The gentleman in black at once leaped out of the wagon, and every one present drew near, when Tom, guided by the rod which he had kept upon the body, put his hand into the boot, and drew forth a fine hare that had been shattered by the shot all to pieces.
"He arn't a bull-terrier," cried Bob.
"But that arn't he," said Tom Titus. "He 's some'er aboot here as dead as a darng'd nail. I know he 's a corpse."
"Are you sure on 't?" asked Tooler.
"There arn't any barn door deader," cried Tom. "Here, I'll lug um out an' show yar."
"No, no!" shouted Tooler, as Tom proceeded to pull out the luggage. "I marn't stay for that. I 'm an hour behind now, blarm un! jimp up, genelmen!"
Tom Titus and his companions, who wanted the bull-terrier as a trophy, entreated Tooler to allow them to have it, and, having at length gained his consent, Tom proceeded to empty the boot. Every eye was, of course, directed to everything drawn out, and when Tom made a solemn declaration that the boot was empty, they were all, at once, struck with amazement. Each looked at the other with astounding incredulity, and overhauled the luggage again and again.
"Do you mean to say," said Tooler, "that there arn't nuffin else in the boot?"