“And what was the finish of this attack on Ned Adams?” inquired I. “But for his lusty lungs for help,” replied Trimbush, “it might have gone hard with him. However, Will Sykes, Tom Holt, and Old Mark quickly made their appearance, and put an end to the fray with little difficulty. As for our new companion, we never saw him afterwards.” “He was sent away, I suppose?” remarked I. “Yes,” returned Trimbush, “to dance in the air with a hempen cord round his throttle.” “And no wonder, either,” added I, “for such an offence.” “Breaking up a whipper-in is certainly no joke,” said my companion. “But there was one picked as clean as ivory once, without any unpleasant interruption to the spread.” “Gracious powers!” ejaculated I, “what do you mean?” “Simply what I have said,” replied Trimbush, licking his jaws with a peculiar relish, and coolly adding, “I had a hand in the supper.” “You?” I exclaimed. “Listen,” returned the old hound, checking my impetuosity, “and you shall hear. I was not bred in this kennel, but came from the west at the end of my first season. It so happened that about the middle of this season, and when all of us were full of fire and devilry, our regular whipper-in died, and his place became filled by a perfect stranger to us. His cottage being within a short distance, he could hear any quarrel or disturbance, and was ready to quell it at a moment’s notice. Trifles light as air, I’ve heard, will frequently cause the most vital consequences; and such was the case that I am alluding to. A ray of the moon, streaming through a chink in the door of our lodging-house, occasioned a hound of the name of Restless to bay it. This broke the sleep of all; and in a few minutes a regular fight began, each running a-muck and attacking friend and foe with equal want of consideration. In order to quell the row, the whipper-in made his appearance amongst us, as he quitted his bed, undressed; but scarcely had he lifted the latch of the entrance, when--not recognising his voice or his person--he was seized by the throat; and, before the morning light, there was nothing left but a cleanly picked skeleton.” “I’m not surprised at his death, under the circumstances,” rejoined I; “but to eat him!” “In my opinion,” added Trimbush, “that was the most innocent part of the affair.” “And how,” said I, curious to learn further particulars, “how did he taste?” “Take my word for it,” replied the old hound, in a tone and manner conveying much conviction of the correctness of the assertion, “take my word for it,” repeated he, “that with a little broth, daintier food could not be eaten.” “Who was the first to discover the remains?” “Our feeder,” returned he. “And what did he say?”