ikes. And wot's more, I'll
pay in advance. Fust sixpences now."

Claybury men 'ave never been backward when there's been money to be made
easy, and they all wanted to join Bob Pretty's club, as he called it.
But fust of all 'e asked for a pen and ink, and then he got Smith, the
land-lord, being a scholard, to write out a paper for them to sign.
Henery Walker was the fust to write 'is name, and then Sam Jones, Peter
Gubbins, Ralph Thomson, Jem Hall, and Walter Bell wrote theirs. Bob
stopped 'em then, and said six 'ud be enough to go on with; and then 'e
paid up the sixpences and wished 'em luck.

Wot they liked a'most as well as the sixpences was the idea o' getting
the better o' Bob Pretty. As I said afore, he was a poacher, and that
artful that up to that time nobody 'ad ever got the better of 'im.

They made so much fun of 'im the next night that Bob turned sulky and
went off 'ome, and for two or three nights he 'ardly showed his face; and
the next shoot they 'ad he went off to Wickham and nobody saw 'im all
day.

That very day Henery Walker was shot. Several gentlemen fired at a
rabbit that was started, and the next thing they knew Henery Walker was
lying on the ground calling out that 'is leg 'ad been shot off.

He made more fuss than Bill Chambers a'most, 'specially when they dropped
'im off a hurdle carrying him 'ome, and the things he said to Dr. Green
for rubbing his 'ands as he came into the bedroom was disgraceful.

The fust Bob Pretty 'eard of it was up at the _Cauliflower_ at eight
o'clock that evening, and he set down 'is beer and set off to see Henery
as fast as 'is legs could carry 'im. Henery was asleep when 'e got
there, and, do all he could, Bob Pretty couldn't wake 'im till he sat
down gentle on 'is bad leg.

[Illustration: "The fust Bob Pretty 'eard of it was up at the
_Cauliflower_ at eight o'clock that evening."]

"It's on'y me, old pal," he ses, smiling at 'im as Henery woke up and
shouted at 'im to get up.

Henery Walker was going to say something bad, but 'e thought better of
it, and he lay there arf busting with rage, and watching Bob out of the
corner of one eye.

"I quite forgot you was on my club till Smith reminded me of it," ses
Bob. "Don't you take a farthing less than ten pounds, Henery."

Henery Walker shut his eyes again. "I forgot to tell you I made up my
mind this morning not to belong to your club any more, Bob," he ses.

"Why didn't you come and tell me, Hener