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Updated: May 4, 2025
The shooting had been good that morning, as quail-shooting goes, and the man who acted as keeper, loader, gardener, and general factotum, and who went out with any one who wanted to shoot, had gone on to the cottage with the bag, the two guns, and the animal which he called his dog.
The real Lord Greystoke had not two guns, to be sure, nor even one, neither did he have a smart loader; but he possessed something infinitely more efficacious than guns, or loaders, or even twenty-three beaters in white smocks he possessed an appetite, an uncanny woodcraft, and muscles that were as steel springs.
As the riders proceeded, the crowd fell back more willingly, and loader and fuller grew the shouts of joy until at last their march was like a triumphal procession. In a few minutes they drew up before the palace; but before the brazen gates had opened to admit them, another train came slowly into sight.
Between the killing work, the heat of the tubes, and occasional doses of radiation, their lives weren't worth the metal value of their tickets. He began pulling himself clumsily along a shaft, dodging freight the loaders were tossing from hand to hand. A bag hit his head, drawing blood, and another caught him in the groin. "Watch it, bo," a loader yelled at him.
David's loader reported afterwards that that young gentleman and Miss Byrne, when she waited with him in the butt, seemed to find very little to talk about. And it was a long wait before any birds came up, on that beat. It was a few days after this that Gimblet, taking up an evening paper at the Club, was startled to see a sinister headline of "Murder," immediately followed by the name of Ashiel.
He overtook his host on the way, and paused for a moment. "Lend me a loader for half an hour, Sir William," he begged. "I have to send my servant to the village with a telegram." "With pleasure!" Sir William answered. "There are several to spare. I'll send one to your stand. There's von Hern going the wrong way!" he exclaimed, in a tone of annoyance.
I had my own double-barrelled rifle; but besides this, a man with a rack on his back bearing three rifles of the prince's, a loader, and a FORSTER, with a hunting knife or short sword to despatch the wounded quarry. Out of the first rush of pigs that went by I knocked over two; and, in my keenness, jumped out of the stand with the FORSTER who ran to finish them off.
Rick saw him place it in the gun barrel, swing the loader over the razor-sharp harpoon head, and shove down on the spring. In a moment the gun was loaded again. Luckily the spear had not bent when the prop blade hit it. The boat had come to a halt, the engine dead. The propeller could no longer turn against the wrapping of wire and heavy fishline.
Scotty put the loader over the tip of his spear and pushed down, cocking the gun. Then, without a splash, he slid under the water. Rick watched as his fins propelled him slowly toward the snapper. Scotty was moving slowly, because this was the prime rule in underwater hunting. As he swam, he extended the spear gun, aiming over the short barrel.
It was of about the same bend and length as his own, but of a better quality, having once been the property of James de la Molle. "Yes," he said, "but then I haven't got a loader." "Never mind. I'll do that, I know all about it. I often used to hold my brother's second gun when we drove partridges, because he said I was so much quicker than the men.
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