THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER. 205 



fields. This we managed to counteract by one of us 

 remaining ready to shoot, whilst the other climbed, 

 and on the whole did pretty well. 



Almost at the end of the beat was the farmhouse, 

 and just as I was remarking that there was no object 

 in going any nearer, a hare jumped up, and took the 

 contents of my two barrels away rejoicing. Just as 

 I was beginning to take credit to myself for a very bad 

 miss, she suddenly turned in a short circle and made 

 so directly for Smith as almost to run between his legs. 

 I was sorry when he rolled her over, as it would have 

 been interesting to watch her subsequent action. She 

 was probably shot in the head or heart, and her running 

 on was equivalent to the act of " towering " in a bird. 

 The three shots brought out the farmer, who gave us a 

 hearty welcome, and walked on with us. Seeing us 

 turn aside to skirt a bit of standing corn, he cried : 



" Put the dogs into it, sir, put the dogs into it. 

 They won't do it no hurt, nor you either. Walk on, 

 gentlemen, walk on." 



We did so. The crop was certainly rather poor- 

 looking oats, but the action was a kindly one, such as 

 I have often and often had to thank the British farmer 

 for. As it happened there was a covey in the oats, of 

 which we took toll, and also a brace of pheasants. 

 The farmer called to us to shoot these too, but of 

 course we did not. 



" Ah," he said, " you should have shot 'un. You'm 

 never see 'un agin." But we did, though or rather 

 perhaps we may have done for when their due season 

 came we killed some pheasants on that ground. Time 



