1 82 The Amateur Poacher 



calling * sceap, sceap ' in as many different directions, 

 made me hesitate at which to aim. The continual 

 dwelling upon the problem rendered me nervous, so 

 that I scarcely knew when I pulled the trigger. 



But one day, in passing this gateway, which was 

 a long distance from the particular water-meadows 

 where I had practised, and not thinking of snipes, 

 suddenly one got up, and with a loud * sceap ' darted 

 over the gate. The long slender gun — the old single- 

 barrel — came to the shoulder instinctively, without 

 premeditation, and the snipe fell. 



Coming now to the brook, which was broad and 

 bordered by a hedge on the opposite side, I held 

 Orion's gun while he leaped over. The bank was 

 steep and awkward, but he had planned his leap so 

 as to alight just where he could at once grasp an ash 

 branch and so save himself from falling back into the 

 water. He could not, however, stay suspended there, 

 but had to scramble over the hedge, and then called 

 for his gun. I leaned mine against a hollow withy 

 pollard, and called ' ready.' 



Taking his gun a few inches above the trigger 

 guard (and with the guard towards his side), holding 

 it lightly just where it seemed to balance in a perpen- 

 dicular position, I gave it a slow heave rather than a 

 throw, and it rose into the air. This peculiar feeling 



