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‘
Stand
aside
,
then
.
Now
for
it
.
’
The
boy
shouted
,
and
shook
a
branch
with
a
nest
on
it
.
Half
a
dozen
young
rooks
in
violent
conversation
,
flew
out
to
ask
what
the
matter
was
.
The
old
gentleman
fired
by
way
of
reply
.
Down
fell
one
bird
,
and
off
flew
the
others
.
‘
Take
him
up
,
Joe
,
’
said
the
old
gentleman
.
There
was
a
smile
upon
the
youth
’
s
face
as
he
advanced
.
Indistinct
visions
of
rook
-
pie
floated
through
his
imagination
.
He
laughed
as
he
retired
with
the
bird
—
it
was
a
plump
one
.
‘
Now
,
Mr
.
Winkle
,
’
said
the
host
,
reloading
his
own
gun
.
‘
Fire
away
.
’
Mr
.
Winkle
advanced
,
and
levelled
his
gun
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
and
his
friends
cowered
involuntarily
to
escape
damage
from
the
heavy
fall
of
rooks
,
which
they
felt
quite
certain
would
be
occasioned
by
the
devastating
barrel
of
their
friend
.
There
was
a
solemn
pause
—
a
shout
—
a
flapping
of
wings
—
a
faint
click
.
‘
Hollo
!
’
said
the
old
gentleman
.
‘
Won
’
t
it
go
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Missed
fire
,
’
said
Mr
.
Winkle
,
who
was
very
pale
—
probably
from
disappointment
.
