300 PARTRIDGES 



Thirty yards in front of you rises the 

 tall dense hedge that the guns are lining ; 

 your place is on the left of the six guns, 

 and between you and your neighbour 

 the tops of a row of stunted hedgerow 

 trees are just visible, marking the dividing 

 line of the turnips which are going to be 

 driven, and the stubble which you cannot 

 see, but know to be in your immediate 

 front 



Your vigilance is soon rewarded. The 

 other guns are still chatting with their 

 neighbours, when a low whistle from the 

 front makes you jump up from your seat, 

 shove up the safety bolt of your Purdey, 

 and stand scanning your limited horizon, 

 your left hand well down the barrels and 

 the butt resting on your thigh. Five 

 seconds later and the first covey of the 

 day streams over the fence twenty yards 

 to your right. The two nearest birds 

 cross as they come into sight, and a lucky 

 or clever shot brings them both down 

 together a miss with the left barrel too 

 far back as usual a good recovery with 



