256 THE GROUSE 



and beating heart, and somehow manage 

 to do the right thing, taking only birds 

 in front and close up to you, and trying 

 to concentrate your attention on each one 

 as he comes up and forget all the others 

 around you. Four have struck the dyke 

 in front of you, all dead, before you swing 

 round and get a lucky shot which just 

 breaks the wing of the last of the retiring 

 pack. After such a disconcerting quarry, 

 the odd grouse and brace of moorland 

 partridges that come later seem small fry 

 indeed, and are disposed of without any 

 difficulty. 



The other gun, higher up the dyke, 

 only had a chance at the outskirts of the 

 pack, and has only two down, but accounts 

 for a brace of cock pheasants making for 

 the valley below, and nicely up in the 

 air. 



Two more drives follow, one off 

 another lot of stubbles on the adjoining 

 farm, and a final round up off the roosting 

 ground on the rough borders of the moor- 

 land above. In the failing light of the last 



