“Oh good. Come down, I say, instantly, or I'll make you. ’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. A world of haystacks, bean-stacks, and strawricks flanked the granges adjoining his habitation; the yard was crowded with poultry, pigeons were feeding at his feet, cattle were being driven towards the stall, horses led to the stable, a large mastiff was rattling his chain, and stalking majestically in front of his kennel, while a number of farming-men were passing and repassing about their various occupations. He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene.
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