"I used to be a pretty fair shot once.

But what's that you're doing ?" he added, looking at Peterkin, who had drawn the end of a long pole into the tent, and was endeavouring to fit a small piece of the hoop-iron to the end of it.
"I'm going to enlist into the Lancers," answered Peterkin.

"You see, Jack, I find the club rather an unwieldy instrument for my delicately- formed muscles, and I flatter myself I shall do more execution with a spear." "Well, if length constitutes power," said Jack, "you'll certainly be invincible." The pole which Peterkin had cut was full twelve feet long, being a very strong but light and tough young tree, which merely required thinning at the butt to be a serviceable weapon.
"That's a very good idea," said I.
"Which--this ?" inquired Peterkin, pointing to the spear.
"Yes;" I replied.
"Humph!" said he; "you'd find it a pretty tough and matter-of-fact idea, if you had it stuck through your gizzard, old boy!" "I mean the idea of making it is a good one," said I, laughing.

"And, now I think of it, I'll change my plan, too.

I don't think much of a club, so I'll make me a sling out of this piece of cloth.