A GAMEKEEPER S COTTAGE. 



CHAPTER XXV 



PHEASANTS FROM SHELL TO SHOT 



DURING a long stay in Broadland, the doings on one 

 particular day, perhaps to us the most enjoyable of the many 

 whiled away in that delightful district, stand prominent in 

 mind. The exact locus in quo shall remain undivulged in 

 spite of the fact that the honest old English gamekeeper, 

 in whose company the fleeting hours were passed, has since 

 gone to his well-earned rest. 



O 



Good old Balls ! he was one of the best and as true a soul 

 as ever spiked the humble daisy, yet he was a queer customer 

 to tackle by anyone who did not know him or who attempted 

 to sail under his weather as is said when racing on the 

 river. 



The day in question was a lovely one, and luncheon had 

 been served in a manner that made a walk imperative to 

 well-being. Whilst lounging on the deck of the craft that 



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