use that
unchristian implement! don't put the dumb thing to such horrible
torture!"

"It don't siggerfy a button," cried Tooler, "I marn't go to stop here
all day. Out he must come."

Upon this Tom Titus introduced his professional weapon, and commenced
poking about with considerable energy, while the snapping and growling
increased with each poke.

"I'll tell you what it is," said Tom Titus, turning round and wiping
the sweat off his brow with his naked arm, "this here cretur here's
stark raavin' mad."

"I knew that he was," cried the gentleman in black, getting into an
empty wagon which stood without horses just out of the road; "I felt
perfectly sure that he was rabid."

"He 's a bull-terrier too," said Tom Titus, "I knows it by 's growl.
It 's the worsest and dargdest to go maad as is."

"Well, what shall us do wi' th' warment?" said Tooler.

"Shoot him! shoot him!" cried the gentleman in black.

"O, I 've goot a blunderbus, Bob!" said Tom Titus, "yow run for 't
together, it 's top o' the forge."

Bob started at once, and Tom kept on the bar, while Tooler, Sam, and
Harry, and Bob held the heads of the horses.

"He 's got un; all right!" cried Tom Titus, as Bob neared the coach
with the weapon on his shoulder. "Yow 'll be doon in noo time," he
added as he felt with his rod to ascertain in which corner of the boot
the bull-terrier lay.

"Is she loarded?" asked Bob, as he handed Tom Titus the instrument of
death.

"Mind you make the shot come out at bottom," shouted Tooler.

"I hool," said Tom Titus, putting the weapon to his shoulder. "Noo the
Loord ha' marcy on yar, as joodge says sizes," and instantly let fly.

The horses of course plunged considerably, but still did no mischief;
and before the smoke had evaporated, Valentine introduced into the
boot a low melancholy howl, which convinced Tom Titus that the shot
had taken effect.

"He 's giv oop the ghost; darng his carkus!" cried Tom, as he poked
the dead body in the corner.

"Well, let 's have a look at un," said Tooler, "let 's see what the
warment is like."

The gentleman in black at once leaped out of the wagon, and every one
present drew near, when Tom, guided by the rod which he had kept upon
the body, put his hand into the boot, and drew forth a fine hare that
had been shattered by the shot all to pieces.

"He arn't a bull-terrier," cried Bob.

"But that arn't he," said Tom Titus. "He 's some'er aboot here as dead
as a darng'd nail