"Oh!" he cried, conscience-stricken; "there, if I haven't done it again!"
"Done it! av coorse ye have!" cried Flinn, picking up an enormous bird; "it cudn't have bin nater done by a sportin' lord."
"Then it ain't a tame one?" asked Slagg eagerly.
"No more a tame wan than yoursilf, an' the best of aitin' too," said Flinn.
Jim Slagg went on quietly loading his gun, and did not think it necessary to explain that he had supposed the birds to be tame turkeys, that his piece had a second time gone off by accident, and that he had taken no aim at all!
After that, however, he managed to subdue his feelings a little, and accidentally bagged a few more birds of strange form and beautiful plumage, by the simple process of shutting his eyes and firing into the middle of flocks, to the immense satisfaction of Flinn, who applauded all his successes and explained away all his failures in the most amiable manner.
If the frequent expanding of the mouth from ear to ear, the exposure of white teeth and red gums, and the shutting up of glittering eyes, indicated enjoyment, the attenuated boy must have been in a blissful condition that day.
"Why don't ye shoot yerself, Mister Flinn?" asked Slagg on one occasion while reloading.
"Bekaise it shuits me better to look on," answered
