Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

A pleasant Day with an unpleasant Termination

           Winkle,staringabouthim,asifheexpectedtodiscoversomeparticularbeautyinthelandscape,whichthesagaciousanimalswerecallingspecialattentionto.‘Makingapoint!Whataretheypointingat?’

           ‘Keepyoureyesopen,’saidWardle,notheedingthequestionintheexcitementofthemoment.‘Nowthen.’

           Therewasasharpwhirringnoise,thatmadeMr.Winklestartbackasifhehadbeenshothimself.Bang,bang,wentacoupleofgunsthesmokesweptquicklyawayoverthefield,andcurledintotheair.

           ‘Wherearethey!’saidMr.Winkle,inastateofthehighestexcitement,turningroundandroundinalldirections.‘Wherearethey?Tellmewhentofire.Wherearetheywherearethey?’

           ‘Wherearethey!’saidWardle,takingupabraceofbirdswhichthedogshaddepositedathisfeet.‘Why,heretheyare.’

           ‘No,no;Imeantheothers,’saidthebewilderedWinkle.

           ‘Farenoughoff,bythistime,’repliedWardle,coollyreloadinghisgun.

           ‘Weshallverylikelybeupwithanothercoveyinfiveminutes,’saidthelonggamekeeper.‘Ifthegentlemanbeginstofirenow,perhapshe’lljustgettheshotoutofthebarrelbythetimetheyrise.’

           ‘Ha!ha!ha!’roaredMr.Weller.

           ‘Sam,’saidMr.Pickwick,compassionatinghisfollower’sconfusionandembarrassment.

           ‘Sir.’

           ‘Don’tlaugh.

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