CHAP. THIRTY-SIX A MIXED BAG 



my old retriever (who was well accustomed to duck-shoot- 

 ing) to accompany me. I had got towithin a hundred yards, 

 when an old mallard, whom I had not seen, rose at my feet 

 out of a pool, and quacked an alarm that made six more 

 rise out of shot of me. I avenged myself, however, on him, 

 bringing him down quite dead at a considerable distance. 

 Several pairs of ducks rose at the report, and all went off 

 to the sea. 



I had scarcely commenced hunting again with the point- 

 er, when he stood at something close to his nose, stopping 

 dead short in the midst of his gallop. I walked up, expect- 

 ing ajacksnipe; when, out of a small hollow, or rather hole 

 in the heather, rose eight grouse. They flew wild, but I kill- 

 ed one with my first barrel, and two with the second — the 

 wind blowing them up into a heap just as I pulled the trig- 

 ger: the rest flew over a height not far up, right in the eye 

 of the wind. I knew the violence of the gale must stop them; 

 and accordingly I found them again, immediately over the 

 ridge, and killed a brace more, marking down the rest close 

 to a cottage. My next two barrels killed one only. The 

 rest went off a long distance. The star of my friend's larder 

 was still in the ascendant, for before I turned to beat home- 

 wards I killed two jacksnipes; thus making up four part- 

 ridges, six grouse, four snipes, three hares, and a wild duck. 

 Not a bad bag already. I beat on towards the coast, killing 

 some partridges, a brace of rabbits, a woodcock, and a hare 

 or two. 



Near the shore I saw an immense flock of curlews and 

 other birds in a tolerably good situation for getting near 

 them. Of all shore-birds there is none, not even the wild 

 463 



