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All these and more were spread upon the table before the sportsmen's wondering eyes. "Capital flies! capital, faith!" cried Williamson. "Treasures, faith, real treasures, by G !" cried Benson. "Eh! 'pon honour! re'lly now," were the first words which Heathcock had uttered since his battle with the goat.
They are all of my own making, and consequently of Irish manufacture." Then, ringing the bell, he asked Lady Dashfort's permission to have the basket put into her carriage. Benson and Williamson followed the servant, to prevent them from being tossed into the boot. Heathcock stood still in the middle of the room, taking snuff.
With becoming attention, he stroked and kept quiet old Victory, his eagle, who eyed Colonel Heathcock still, as if he did not like him; and whom the colonel eyed as if he wished his neck fairly wrung off.
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