'You'll get six shillings a brace for 'em.' 'YOU know the price of 'em well enough, and so does your master too, you scoundrel,' says Ponto, still retreating.
'We kill 'em on our ground,' cries Mr.Snapper.

'WE don't set traps for other people's birds.

We're no decoy ducks.

We're no sneaking poachers.
We don't shoot 'ens, like that 'ere Cockney, who's got the tail of one a-sticking out of his pocket.

Only just come across the hedge, that's all.' 'I tell you what,' says Stripes, who was out with us as keeper this day, (in fact he's keeper, coachman, gardener, valet, and bailiff, with Tummus under him,) 'if YOU'LL come across, John Snapper, and take your coat off, I'll give you such a whopping as you've never had since the last time I did it at Guttlebury Fair.' 'Whop one of your own weight,' Mr.Snapper said, whistling his dogs and disappearing into the wood.