a couple o' shillings that his wife 'ad hidden in her Sunday bonnet, and
Peter Gubbins opened 'is boy's money-box to see 'ow much there was in it.
They came up to the _Cauliflower_ to pay Bob their eighteen-pences, but he
wasn't there, and when they went to his 'ouse Mrs. Pretty said as 'ow
he'd gone off to Wickham and wouldn't be back till Saturday. So they 'ad
to spend the money on beer instead.

That was on Tuesday, and things went on all right till Friday, when Mr.
Sutton 'ad another shoot. The birds was getting scarce and the gentlemen
that anxious to shoot them there was no 'olding them. Once or twice the
keepers spoke to 'em about carefulness, and said wot large families
they'd got, but it wasn't much good. They went on blazing away, and just
at the corner of the wood Sam Jones and Peter Gubbins was both hit; Sam
in the leg and Peter in the arm.

The noise that was made was awful--everybody shouting that they 'adn't
done it, and all speaking at once, and Mr. Sutton was dancing about
a'most beside 'imself with rage. Pore Sam and Peter was 'elped along by
the others; Sam being carried and Peter led, and both of 'em with the
idea of getting all they could out of it, making such 'orrible noises
that Mr. Sutton couldn't hear 'imself calling his friends names.

"There seems to be wounded men calling out all over the place," he ses,
in a temper.

"I think there is another one over there, sir," ses one o' the keepers,
pointing.

Sam Jones and Peter Gubbins both left off to listen, and then they all
heard it distinctly. A dreadful noise it was, and when Mr. Sutton and
one or two more follered it up they found poor Walter Bell lying on 'is
face in a bramble.

"Wot's the matter?" ses Mr. Sutton, shouting at 'im.

"I've been shot from behind," ses Walter. "I'd got something in my boot,
and I was just stooping down to fasten it up agin when I got it.

"But there oughtn't to be anybody 'ere," ses Mr. Sutton to one of the
keepers.

"They get all over the place, sir," ses the 'keeper, scratching his 'ead.
"I fancied I 'eard a gun go off here a minute or two arter the others was
shot."

"I believe he's done it 'imself," says Mr. Sutton, stamping his foot.

"I don't see 'ow he could, sir," ses the keeper, touching his cap and
looking at Walter as was still lying with 'is face on 'is arms.

They carried Walter 'ome that way on a hurdle, and Dr. Green spent all
the rest o' that day picking shots out o' them th