156 ROUND THE BOUNDARIES 



Meanwhile the sportsmen have crossed the 

 fence Into an open oak grove. By jumping 

 the ditch they disturb something. Flap! 

 flap ! — Down ! The first cock of the season. 

 One must look at it. It is still alive. The 

 beautiful eye is fortunately quite inexpres- 

 sive ; there is nothing to show agony, 

 though pain there must be. The head 

 droops ; it is over. The ground runs to 

 a point here, and at the very end up gets 

 a cock pheasant ; and gets away safely, too. 

 Well, one must miss sometimes. But that 

 was a bad one. The rest of the northern 

 boundary is blank, save of rabbits, which 

 are not shot at. 



Before going on, our pair turn back 

 through some fields, to where a litde covert 

 lies between an orchard and a meadow. It 

 is not near the boundary, but it has been 



