DAYS IN THE STUBBLES 43 



Our small party of four leave the roadside 

 down by the burn and climb up the hill of 

 fields. The younger brother of the kind Laird 

 who gives me these treats is my host to-day ; 

 he is also my master of shot-gun lore ; we two 

 are the guns, and the head keeper and his 

 son are the beaters. They are to post them- 

 selves as sentries at the corners of the two 

 stubble fields, one to the south-east, the other 

 to the north-west of the dyke that runs as a 

 centre line, dividing the two feeding grounds, 

 up to the moor above us. When a sufficient 

 number of birds collect in the fields, then the 

 sentries will walk slowly across and drive 

 them, as best they can, over us at our respect- 

 ive stands by the said dyke. Such is the 

 plan. 



There is a certain gate where four fields 

 meet, two grass and the aforesaid stubbles, 

 which my quondam host declares to be the 

 usual flight of the black game coming in and 

 out to feed. 



' I advise you to go there, but please your- 

 self ; I am going to stay here " ; and he lazily 



