"Leave me alone for that," replied Sugarlips; "I know a thing or two,
although this is the first time that ever I have been out. What a
scuffling the birds do make"--added he, peeping into the cage which they
had, as a precautionary measure, stocked with sparrows, in order that
they might not be disappointed in their sport--"How they long to be on
the wing!"

"I'll wing 'em, presently!" cried his comrade, with a vaunting air--" and
look if here ain't the very identical spot for a display of my skill.
Pick out one of the best and biggest, and tie up a-top of yonder stile,
and you shall soon have a specimen of my execution." Sugarlips quickly
did his bidding.

"Now--come forward and stand back! What do ye think o' that, ey?" said
the sportsman--levelling his gun, throwing back his head, closing his
sinister ocular, and stretching out his legs after the manner of the
Colossus of Rhodes--"Don't you admire my style?"

"Excellent!" said Sugarlips--"But I think I could hit it."

"What?"

"Why, the stile to be sure."

"Keep quiet, can't you--Now for it--" and, trembling with eagerness, his
hand pulled the trigger, but no report followed. "The deuce is in the
gun," cried he, lowering it, and examining the lock; "What can ail it?"

"Why, I'll be shot if that ain't prime," exclaimed Sugarlips, laughing