"Where did you pick it up?" "I believe I told you; at Yale. ‘Do not move, messieurs, or I shall be compelled to blow off your head. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. I can’t help it. In concealing himself behind the timber, Mr.
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