On the Borders of Dartmoor 137 



on. I swung round and cut him down, and 

 in the act of pulling the trigger I heard 

 another bird get up in front of Sam, so I 

 twisted sharp back and bowled it over 

 with the second barrel. The Skipper was 

 delighted, and shouted his congratulations. 

 There were only these two birds, and we 

 came to the conclusion that they were part 

 of a covey we had broken up on the higher 

 ground. The day was on the wane, and I 

 was getting terribly leg weary, so I was 

 anything but sorry when the order was 

 given to make homewards. On the way 

 down the Skipper killed a single old bird 

 and I nailed a rabbit, and this was the final 

 shot. I was tired, the dogs had had enough, 

 Charles said he was dead-beat, and all his 

 "westcut buttins was blode horf." The 

 Skipper, a six-foot specimen of humanity, 

 said he could go on for another hour, but 

 I rather think he was bouncing a bit. Our 



