OLD MICHAELMAS DAY 305 



break the hot stillness of this glorious 

 autumn morning. 



A flight of fieldfares and larks heralds 

 the start of the drive, and you pace them 

 with your gun to get some freedom into 

 your swing. A single Frenchman follows, 

 crossing the valley straight as a die an 

 easy opening of which you duly avail 

 yourself, taking him well out in front, 

 and giving him a good lead with the 

 gun. A sprinkling of other birds begins 

 to bring the other guns into play, and the 

 crackle of musketry soon becomes general. 

 Presently a big lot three or four coveys 

 packed together which has tried vainly 

 to force the flanks of the drive, comes 

 swinging down the line from the right. 

 They are well strung out, and here, if 

 ever, is a good chance of killing your 

 four. Unluckily your neighbour's last 

 bird only misses your head by a foot, 

 giving you a bad start for your first 

 bird is missed by yards in consequence ; 

 you grip your gun if anything a little 



tighter, and make no mistake about the 



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