"See if I haim at any think agin but vot's sitting on a rail or a post"
--said Mr. Richard--"or s'pose Spriggs you goes on von side of an 'edge
and me on t'other--and ve'll get the game between us--and then--"

"Thankye for me, Dick," interrupted Spriggs, "but that'll be a sort o'
cross-fire that I sha'n't relish no how.--Vy it'll be just for all the
world like fighting a jewel--on'y ve shall exchange shots--p'r'aps
vithout any manner o' satisfaction to 'ither on' us. No--no--let's shoot
beside von another--for if ve're beside ourselves ve may commit suicide."

"My vig!" cries Mr. Grubb, "there's a covey on 'em."

"Vere?"

"There!"

"Charge 'em, my lad."

"Stop! fust charge our pieces."

Having performed this preliminary act, the sportsmen crouched in a dry
ditch and crawled stealthily along in order to approach the tempting
covey as near as possible.

Up flew the birds, and with trembling hands they simultaneously touched
the triggers.

"Ve've nicked some on 'em."