PHEASANT-SHOOTING. 253 



day's shooting. But in the forenoon we did un- 

 commonly well. We went into the farm for lunch and 

 did justice to what I may call a home-made meal, for 

 it consisted of a couple of delicious chickens of our 

 hostess's rearing, a home-cured ham equally excellent 

 and cider from home-grown apples. 



Early in the afternoon a pair of partridges got up 

 wild, and it seemed to me they dropped in one of the 

 thick hedges we had already beaten. T pooh- 

 poohed the idea. 



" Well," I pleaded, " let's go back and try at any 

 rate. It can't hurt, and with one gun on each side, 

 some one will get a shot." 



" They wouldn't light in a hedge like that, and if 

 they did they would have run out by this time. I'm 

 not going back." 



" Well," I said, " wait for me, anyway, and Til go." 



They agreed to this, and taking the spaniel I went 

 back. When I got to the hedge I put the dog up at 

 one end. Presently he put up the birds, which by 

 good luck got out my side, and I killed them both, a 

 proceeding which gave me the double satisfaction both 

 of bagging the birds, and being able to say " I told 

 you so." 



It soon became evident that there was hardly 

 enough shooting on the farm for a whole day. But our 

 host pointed out a bit of a wood at one end which also 

 belonged to him. It was, however, still in full leaf, 

 and it was very doubtful if we should do any good 

 there. Still we could only try. As the youngest I 

 volunteered to go through with the beater while the 



