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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Gad," said Alderdene, "she's well rid of him if he's been choking her this long the rank, rotten weed that he is, sapping the life from her so when she hung over toward another fellow's bush we thought she was frail in the stem God bless us all for a simpering lot of blatherskites!"
Ferrall, gesticulating vigorously, resumed his preprandial dog story to Captain Voucher; Belwether buttonholed Alderdene and bored him with an interminably facetious tale until that nobleman, threatened with maxillary dislocation, fairly wrenched himself loose and came over to Siward, squinting furiously.
"Stephen," called out Alderdene, anxiously counting the web loops in his khaki vest, "what do you call fair shooting at these damnable ruffed grouse? You needn't be civil about it, you know." "Five shells to a bird is good shooting," answered Siward. "You have a better score, Mr. "That was chance and this year's birds. I've taken ten shells to an old drummer in hard wood or short pines."
It's Blinky! that's his notion of humour. Did you ever hear such a laugh? No wonder Mr. Quarrier is annoyed." The gay uproar had partly subsided, renewed here and there as the sketch was passed along, and finally, making the circle, returned like a bad penny to Quarrier. He smiled again, symmetrically, as he received it, nodding his compliments to Alderdene.
"I've got all that's c-coming to me," he said hoarsely; "I'm all in all in! God! but I've got the jumps this trip. You'll stand for this, won't you, Plank? I was batty, but I woke up in time to grasp the live wire Billy Fleetwood held three shocks in succession and his were queens full to my jacks aces to kings twice! Alderdene and Voucher sitting in until they'd started me off hiking hellward!"
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