'I say, Stephen,' said one of the hedgers, as he was going down from his
work one evening, and met the tired boy coming up from his, 'I'm afeared
there's some mischief brewing. There's master, and Mr. Thomas, and Mr.
Jones the gamekeeper, been talking with thy grandfather nigh upon an
hour. There'll be a upshot some day, I know; and Jones, he said summat
about leaving a keepsake for thee.'
'What could it be, William?' asked Stephen anxiously.
'How should I know?' said the man, with some reluctance. 'Only, lad,
I did hear a gun go off; and I never heard Snip bark again, though I
listened for him. Stephen, Stephen, dunna thee go so mad like!'
But it was no use shouting after Stephen, as he ran frantically up the
hill. Snip was always basking lazily in the sunshine under the hedge of
the paddock, at the very point where he could catch the first sight of
his young master, after which there was no more idleness or stillness in
him. Stephen could hardly breathe when he found that Snip was not at the
usual place to greet him; but before he reached his home he saw it--the
dead body of his own poor Snip--hung on the post of the wicket through
which he had to pass.
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