Having performed this preliminary act, the sportsmen crouched in a dry ditch and crawled stealthily along in order to approach the tempting covey as near as possible. Up flew the birds, and with trembling hands they simultaneously touched the triggers. "Ve've nicked some on 'em." "Dead as nits," said Spriggs. "Don't be in an hurry now," said the cautious Mr. Grubb, "ve don't know for certain yet, vot ve hav'n't hit." "It can't be nothin' but a balloon then," replied Spriggs, "for ve on'y fired in the hair I'll take my 'davy." Turning to the right and the left and observing nothing, they boldly advanced in order to appropriate the spoil. "Here's feathers at any rate," said Spriggs, "ve've blown him to shivers, by jingo!" "And here's a bird! hooray!" cried the delighted Grubb--"and look'ee, here's another--two whole 'uns--and all them remnants going for nothing as the linen-drapers has it!" "Vot are they, Dick?" inquired Spriggs, whose ornithological knowledge was limited to domestic poultry; "sich voppers ain't robins or sparrers, I take it." "Vy!" said the dubious Mr. Richard-resting on his gun and throwing one leg negligently over the other--"I do think they're plovers, or larks, or summat of that kind." "Vot's in a name; the thing ve call a duck by any other name vould heat as vell!" declaimed Spriggs, parodying the immortal Shakspeare. "Talking o' heating, Spriggs--I'm rayther peckish--my stomick's bin a-crying cupboard for a hour past.--Let's look hout for a hinn!" CHAPTER V. An extraordinary Occurrence--a Publican taking Orders. Tying the legs of the birds together with a piece of string, Spriggs proudly carried them along, dangling at his fingers' ends. After tramping for a long mile, the friends at length discovered, what they termed, an house of "hentertainment." Entering a parlour, with a clean, sanded floor, (prettily herring-boned, as the housemaids technically phrase it,) furnished with red curtains, half a dozen beech chairs, three cast-iron spittoons, and a beer-bleached mahogany table,--Spriggs tugged at the bell. The host, with a rotund, smiling face, his nose, like Bardolph's, blazing with fiery meteors, and a short, white apron, concealing his unmentionables, quickly answered the tintinabulary summons. "Landlord," said Spriggs, who had seated himself in a chair, while Mr. Richard was adjusting his starched collar at the window;--"Landlord! ve should like to have this 'ere game dressed." The Landlord eyed the 'game' through his spectacles, and smiled. "Roasted, or biled, Sir?" demanded he. "Biled?--no:--roasted, to be sure!" replied Spriggs, amazed at his pretended obtuseness: "and, I say, landlord, you can let us have plenty o' nice wedgetables." "Greens?" said the host;--but whether alluding to the verdant character of his guests, or merely making a polite inquiry as to the article they desired, it was impossible, from his tone and manner, to divine.