ng round and round in all directions. 'Where are they? Tell me when
to fire. Where are they--where are they?'

'Where are they!' said Wardle, taking up a brace of birds which the dogs
had deposited at his feet. 'Why, here they are.'

'No, no; I mean the others,' said the bewildered Winkle.

'Far enough off, by this time,' replied Wardle, coolly reloading his
gun.

'We shall very likely be up with another covey in five minutes,' said
the long gamekeeper. 'If the gentleman begins to fire now, perhaps he'll
just get the shot out of the barrel by the time they rise.'

'Ha! ha! ha!' roared Mr. Weller.

'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, compassionating his follower's confusion and
embarrassment.

'Sir.'

'Don't laugh.'

'Certainly not, Sir.' So, by way of indemnification, Mr. Weller
contorted his features from behind the wheel-barrow, for the exclusive
amusement of the boy with the leggings, who thereupon burst into a
boisterous laugh, and was summarily cuffed by the long gamekeeper, who
wanted a pretext for turning round, to hide his own merriment.

'Bravo, old fellow!' said Wardle to Mr. Tupman; 'you fired that time, at
all events.'

'Oh, yes,' replied Mr. Tupman, with conscious pride. 'I let it off.'

'Well done. You'll hit something next time, if you look sharp. Very
easy, ain't it?'

'Yes, it's very easy,' said Mr. Tupman. 'How it hurts one's shoulder,
though. It nearly knocked me backwards. I had no idea these small
firearms kicked so.'

'Ah,' said the old gentleman, smiling, 'you'll get used to it in time.
Now then--all ready--all right with the barrow there?'

'All right, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

'Come along, then.'

'Hold hard, Sir,' said Sam, raising the barrow.

'Aye, aye,' replied Mr. Pickwick; and on they went, as briskly as need
be.

'Keep that barrow back now,' cried Wardle, when it had been hoisted over
a stile into another field, and Mr. Pickwick had been deposited in it
once more.

'All right, sir,' replied Mr. Weller, pausing.

'Now, Winkle,' said the old gentleman, 'follow me softly, and don't be
too late this time.'

'Never fear,' said Mr. Winkle. 'Are they pointing?'

'No, no; not now. Quietly now, quietly.' On they crept, and very quietly
they would have advanced, if Mr. Winkle, in the performance of some very
intricate evolutions with his gun, had not accidentally fired, at the
most critical moment, over the boy's head, exactly in the very spot
where the tall man's brain would