s guns--an old
single-barrelled flint-lock cavalry musket or carbine fell to my
share; and I knew happiness such as I had never known yet.

Barty was evidently not meant for a sportsman. On a very warm August
morning, as he and I squatted "a l'affut" at the end of a long
straight ditch outside a thicket which the bassets were hunting, we
saw a hare running full tilt at us along the ditch, and we both
fired together. The hare shrieked, and turned a big somersault and
fell on its back and kicked convulsively--its legs still
galloping--and its face and neck were covered with blood; and, to my
astonishment, Barty became quite hysterical with grief at what we
had done. It's the only time I ever saw him cry.

"_Cain! Cain! qu'as-tu fait de ton frere?_" he shrieked again and
again, in a high voice, like a small child's--like the hare's.

I calmed him down and promised I wouldn't tell, and he recovered
himself and bagged the game--but he never came out shooting with us
again! So I inherited his gun, which was double-barrelled.

Barty's accomplishments soon became the principal recreation of the
Laferte ladies; and even M. Laferte himself would start for the
forest an hour or two later or come back an hour sooner to make
Barty go through his bag of tricks. He would have an arm-chair
brought out on the lawn after breakfast and light his short black
pipe and settle the programme himself.

First, "_le saut perilleux_"--the somersault backwards--over and
over again, at intervals of two or three minutes, so as to give
himself time for thought and chuckles, while he smoked his pipe in
silent stodgy jubilation.

Then, two or three songs--they would be stopped, if M. Laferte
didn't like them, after the first verse, and another one started
instead; and if it pleased him, it was encored two or three times.

Then, pen and ink and paper were brought, and a small table and a
kitchen chair, and Barty had to draw caricatures, of which M.
Laferte chose the subject.

"Maintenant, fais-moi le profil de mon vieil ami M. Bonzig, que j'
n' connais pas, que j' n'ai jamais vu, mais q' j'aime beaucoup."
(Now do me the side face of my old friend M. Bonzig, whom I don't
know, but am very fond of.)

And so on for twenty minutes.

Then Barty had to be blindfolded and twisted round and round, and
point out the north--when he felt up to it.

Then a pause for reflection.

Then: "Dis-moi que'q' chose en anglais."

"How do you do very well hey