SHOOTING RED-LEGS IN THE SNOW 249 



luncheon of cold mutton chops, cold plum pudding, and 

 two large flasks of cherry brandy, enough for my 

 brother and myself and for the man we took with us. 

 The dogs too were not forgotten. 



The first half-mile along the road was easy enough, 

 and we stepped out briskly, the dogs racing about and 

 rolling over each other, every now and then eating 

 mouthfuls of snow ; but the moment we stepped into 

 the fields we realized that not a little judgment would 

 be required to make a bag. The fences running from 

 east to west, and therefore facing the sun, were the 

 likely places, but all the cross hedges which ran at right 

 angles to the direction of the last night's gale were 

 piled high with many feet of snow. Thus in many 

 places to " double " the fences properly was impossible. 

 On the other hand, we knew on which side the birds 

 were likely to lie, and the piles of snow in the hedge 

 foot made it difficult for them to slip through on the 

 wrong side. 



Our first effort was made along a tall hedge covered 

 with snow on the windward side ; on the leeward was a 

 tiny stream, and the water had washed a little margin 

 clear of snow. The spaniels soon began to feather, and 

 a track here and there showed that birds had been there 

 that morning ; then one of the dogs paused a moment 

 on the bank, cocked his ears, and plunged into a mass 

 of brambles, tall grass, and teazles, and out of the 

 cascade of snow and tiny icicles a couple of big " French- 

 men " bounced, looking as large as pheasants. Both 

 birds flew across us, and fell. Three more rose at the 



