'Hollo!' said Mr. Pickwick in his turn, seeing that his
companion was armed with a gun, and that another lay ready on the
grass; 'what's going forward?'
'Why, your friend and I,' replied the host, 'are going out rook-
shooting before breakfast. He's a very good shot, ain't he?'
'I've heard him say he's a capital one,' replied Mr. Pickwick,
'but I never saw him aim at anything.'
'Well,' said the host, 'I wish he'd come. Joe--Joe!'
The fat boy, who under the exciting influence of the morning
did not appear to be more than three parts and a fraction asleep,
emerged from the house.
'Go up, and call the gentleman, and tell him he'll find me and
Mr. Pickwick in the rookery. Show the gentleman the way there;
d'ye hear?'
The boy departed to execute his commission; and the host,
carrying both guns like a second Robinson Crusoe, led the way
from the garden.
'This is the place,' said the old gentleman, pausing after a few
minutes walking, in an avenue of trees. The information was
unnecessary; for the incessant cawing of the unconscious rooks
sufficiently indicated their whereabouts.
The old gentleman laid one gun on the ground, and loaded the other.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173