A COCK DRIVE IN SCOTLAND. 313 



wood, and the shrill whistle announcing that they are in position 

 having been sounded, we and the beaters and dogs again advance. 

 This proves a hot bit of shooting, and the walking is better ; up 

 gets a great " gollaring " cock pheasant close in front of the beater 

 on my right, and therefore within easy shot of my nearest neigh- 

 bour or myself. Thinking he is bound to take it, I refrain from 

 shooting, so does he, and away goes the bird back over our heads 

 in triumph. "Why on earth didn't you shoot that pheasant?" 

 bawls one. But two more of the escaped one's friends getting 

 up at that moment pretty handy, render reply to this question 

 unnecessary for the time, and the argument is deferred, sine die. 

 As we get on to the end of the wood, a number of cock are flying 

 about, a good many rabbits are crossing and re-crossing the wood, 

 and the firing from the men with the beaters is very sharp ; but I 

 notice that both fur and feather show a strong disinclination for the 

 open, and for the most part break back or upwards to the unbeaten 

 portion of the wood. The consequence is that when at length \ve 

 emerge from its depths we are saluted with sundry inquiries and 

 remarks by the three sportsmen who had been placed as stops. 

 " What the deuce had we all been firing at ? " "A nice noise 

 you've been making, certainly ! '' "I suppose you'll want more 

 carts ! " and so on. 



But the morning's work has just put a keen edge on our appetites 

 which will admit of no delay, and we immediately proceed to a 

 small "bothy," where on such occasions as the present we are in 

 the habit of indulging in the luxury of a hot lunch. There is a 

 gigantic fire of turf burning in the little cottage, on which rests an 

 immense iron vessel, crammed with Irish stew, the finest dish possi- 

 ble for luncheon on a cold winter's day, and of that Irish stew, mira- 



s s 



