BEATING THE SPRINGS AND THE WOOD. 127 



turned, and are now exposed to a raking shot 

 from my uncle, and then again are flurried into 

 the corner in which Staunton lies in ambush. 



Jack Sullivan cheers the first lucky exploit 

 of the day, as he picks up nine dead, while 

 Dick, the retriever, is chasing the cripples in a 

 deliberate and knowing fashion. 



Nothing puts a sportsman in better humour 

 than to be successful in the start. " Hallo ! " 



This exclamation is from my uncle, as he 

 points to a distant field, from which a puff of 

 gun-smoke is curling ; his gesture is followed 

 by a sharp hard report. 



" Run down this moment, Jack, and see who 

 that is. No one has leave here, except Doctor 

 Phelan and Mr. Redrnond. 



Jack returns with word that it is Mr. Red- 

 mond, at which my uncle's features relax from 

 a rather discontented expression to one of 

 genuine welcome, which broadens and ex- 

 pands even more hospitably as we approach 

 the gentleman referred to. 



" Glad to meet you, Redmond ; why didn't 

 you come up to the Wisp, or write ? Have 

 you done anything ? " 



