“Why, what on earth did you do that for?” said old Wardle, as the birds flew unharmed away.

“I never saw such a gun in my life,” replied poor Mr. Winkle, looking at the lock, as if that would do any good. “It goes off of its own accord. It will do it.”

“Will do it!” echoed Wardle, with something of irritation in his manner. “I wish it would kill something of its own accord.”

“It’ll do that afore long, Sir,” observed the tall man, in a low, prophetic voice.

“What do you mean by that observation, Sir?” inquired Mr. Winkle, angrily.