Mark Cock! 39 



easy, while the admonished long-heak shut down the safety valve and 

 whipped off round a bush and over a brae at the highest pressure. Now 

 an unfortunate bunny (of which there were a goodish many in the drier 

 spots) came scuttering along, and received a dose of No. 7's in his poll. 

 In one place a pair of ugly great herons rose out of the stream below, 

 and came sailing over me. 



"Soul to glory! Don't miss them divils," roared Mike. One was only 

 about twenty-five yards above, and was making superhuman efforts to 

 quicken his way, when I bowled him over dead into the ravine. The other 

 was further off, and I let him have it. I heard the shot hit him, and I 

 saw some feathers fly ; but he went away down the ravine, very much 

 quickened by my attention. I was watching him, and he hadn't flown 

 above seventy or eighty yards, when suddenly he turned sideways, rolled 

 over, and down he went flop into some bushes. 



" Glory ! " shouted Mike ; ••' the owld haste's on his back. What's 

 happened him ? " I knew what had happened, for I saw his left wing 

 double up. I had sharply bruised a pinion bone, and in the amended 

 efforts he made to get away, it cracked, and down he came. 



"You'd better run on, Mike, or he'll murder the dogs if they get to 

 him before you." 



He did so, and just as he got up I heard one of the dogs yap. 

 Fortunately, the dog saved his eye, but he got his cheek ripped open from 

 the heron's sharp beak ; but a rap on the head from Mike settled him, and 

 we gathered the " cranes," as Mike called them. 



" They're two ould 'uns, sure, with beautiful glossy hackles,* and will 

 make morteal fine flies for the masther, an' I was wantin' 'em badly, and 

 the trout, too, '11 give them lave of absence, not to mention the little 

 grouseens with all the pleasure in life. That's grand !" and Mike fisted 

 his prizes. "And there's Andy with the lunch, too, and the throat o' me's 

 burnt to chips for want of a drink ; and there's the masther' s whistle. 

 Hurroo ! " 



On a level bit, like a soup plate, Mike and his aides were soon busy 



* The black shoulder feathers, only glossy black in old birds, and in. much request for 

 some flies. 



