ce, may be supposed
to assume. It might have been keenness, but it looked remarkably like
misery. The old gentleman nodded; and two ragged boys who had been
marshalled to the spot under the direction of the infant Lambert,
forthwith commenced climbing up two of the trees. 'What are these lads
for?' inquired Mr. Pickwick abruptly. He was rather alarmed; for he was
not quite certain but that the distress of the agricultural interest,
about which he had often heard a great deal, might have compelled the
small boys attached to the soil to earn a precarious and hazardous
subsistence by making marks of themselves for inexperienced sportsmen.
'Only to start the game,' replied Mr. Wardle, laughing.

'To what?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'Why, in plain English, to frighten the rooks.'

'Oh, is that all?'

'You are satisfied?'

'Quite.'

'Very well. Shall I begin?'

'If you please,' said Mr. Winkle, glad of any respite.

'Stand aside, then. Now for it.'

The boy shouted, and shook a branch with a nest on it. Half a dozen
young rooks in violent conversation, flew out to ask what the matter
was. The old gentleman fired by way of reply. Down fell one bird, and
off flew the others.

'Take him up, Joe,' said the old gentleman.

There was a smile upon the youth's face as he advanced. Indistinct
visions of rook-pie floated through his imagination. He laughed as he
retired with the bird--it was a plump one.

'Now, Mr. Winkle,' said the host, reloading his own gun. 'Fire away.'

Mr. Winkle advanced, and levelled his gun. Mr. Pickwick and his friends
cowered involuntarily to escape damage from the heavy fall of rooks,
which they felt quite certain would be occasioned by the devastating
barrel of their friend. There was a solemn pause--a shout--a flapping of
wings--a faint click.

'Hollo!' said the old gentleman.

'Won't it go?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'Missed fire,' said Mr. Winkle, who was very pale--probably from
disappointment.

'Odd,' said the old gentleman, taking the gun. 'Never knew one of them
miss fire before. Why, I don't see anything of the cap.' 'Bless my
soul!' said Mr. Winkle, 'I declare I forgot the cap!'

The slight omission was rectified. Mr. Pickwick crouched again. Mr.
Winkle stepped forward with an air of determination and resolution; and
Mr. Tupman looked out from behind a tree. The boy shouted; four birds
flew out. Mr. Winkle fired. There was a scream as of an individual--not
a rook--in corporal