This particular
afternoon was to be the final appearance of the Coon, who was going to
figure shortly as principal in some contest at Covent Garden, and Jack
determined to miss no opportunity of catching the last wrinkles of the
great professor's skill. Therefore, instead of sallying out as usual
halfway through the performance in the stable, he sat on the corn-chest
until Hill came in.
"Good-bye, Coon! Hope you come off all right in your turn-up."
"Good-bye, sir! Hope I'll train you when you start for the Heavy."
"I'll give you the chance if I do. Come along, Raffles."
When they were outside, Jack said, "By the way, Raffles, this will be
your last appearance down here too, eh?"
"I suppose so," said Raffles, "unless you make it worth my while to come
down entirely on your account."
"H'm, no," said Jack. "I'm deucedly short now, and when I've paid for the
last fifty cartridges, and the last rabbits, I'll be still shorter."
"Let it stand over, sir."
"No," said Jack. "I've had the fun, and I'll pay, of course. Let's have a
last dozen pigeons at the twenty-five yards' rise."
Secretly, Jack was rather glad that Raffles' _role_ of entertainer
was finished; for his stolen pleasures had lost a considerable part of
their original sweetness, and their cost _was_ heavy. It would be
quite a change, too, to get back to Grim and the others, and be the
ordinary common sort of fellow again.
Raffles went and wound up the throwing apparatus, and set the clay pigeon
on the rest.
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