“This will be the first meet o’ the season, and your first day of regular work. Mind,” said Trimbush, admonishingly, as he showed a long row of very white and strong teeth, “to let me see that you have profited by my lessons and the experience you’ve had in cub-hunting, or your jacket may be well shaken when least expected.” “You needn’t begin to threaten,” rejoined I, somewhat indignantly, “without any cause. A rate’s well enough,” I continued, “when a fault is committed; but there’s no occasion to meet it half-way.” “True,” returned Trimbush, “quite true; and your remark only proves that a young head may sometimes correct an old tongue, despite what may be said to the contrary. One of the greatest faults with all whippers-in,” resumed he, “is the rating us in anticipation of our doing wrong; or, after committing it, before soaking in the double-thong; whereas, they should wait until the cause is given, and then--after blistering us with the flax--proceed to lecture upon the impropriety of the conduct. It’s quite remarkable what effect a sound drubbing has upon the memory.” “I shall not forget the first I received,” observed I. “But you’ll never repeat that riot,” significantly returned Trimbush. “It was a christening not to slip through the memory as if it had no knots tied in it.” “But then,” added I, “in coming across the slot of deer, the scent was so sweet and grateful that I couldn’t refrain from carrying a head.” “Well,” said Trimbush, “like luxuries of other descriptions, you paid for the enjoyment.” “And dear as the cost was,” replied I, “it’s very doubtful whether I might not be inclined to have another flutter at the same feather.” “What! swallow a hackle of the dog that bit ye?” rejoined my friend. “It’s a common case, I’ve heard, with our betters,” returned I. “Right again,” added my companion. “Fire puts out fire.” “I suppose,” observed I, “that you’ve felt, before now, an inclination to repeat an error, convinced as ye may have been of its impropriety.” “Ah!” exclaimed Trimbush, drawing in the breath between his teeth with a hissing sound; “that I have. We are as clannish as Scotsmen, and support each other through thick and thin, in the same mortar-an’-brick fashion. If one of us is a marked and confirmed rebel, he seldom repeats his fault without lots of company to back him. The season before last, a hound was sent here from the north country, and as sulky and ill-tempered a brute as was ever seen in a kennel. We all hated him; and yet, strange as it may appear, upon Ned Adams attempting to drive him from the lodging-house one morning, in consequence of his refusal to come when called, he flew at him, and, fastening upon his shoulder, was instantly joined by half the hounds in the court.” “I can’t understand that,” replied I. “The cause lies in our blood and bone,” rejoined my friend. “The impulse with us,” continued he, “is paramount--to follow the leader however wrong he may be in his example.”