52 GAME BIRDS AND WILD FOWL. 



an end. Far away in the distance the cry of 

 ' Heigh cock ! heigh cock ! ' may now and 

 then be heard during the intervals of the con- 

 fusion from a solitary beater who as yet has 

 listened to nothing but the sound of his own 

 voice, and, instead of proceeding in a straight 

 line, has made a wide circuit and now finds 

 himself unexpectedly at the very point from 

 which he started ; while another who has inde- 

 pendently advanced all alone, and at least half an 

 hour too soon, to the opposite end of the wood, 

 is flushing the cocks by dozens, without for a 

 moment considering where the guns are, or which 

 way the affrighted birds take, but delighted all 

 the time at his own performance, while the 

 distant sportsman inwardly curses him from his 

 heart. Many a cunning old beater, too, who 

 has been too long used to the thing to feel any 

 excitement in it, drops quietly into the rear, 

 and squatting under a holly-bush, lights his 

 ' dudeen ' with the utmost sang froid, regardless 

 of all that is passing around him. At last the 

 storm gradually subsides. A few dropping shots 

 alone proceed at intervals from the outskirts of 

 the wood. The shooters and beaters emerge, one 

 by one, at different sides, all eloquent on the 

 subject of their own performances ; not excepting 

 him of the dudeen, who exultingly points to 



