THE BIRD LIFE OF FORM BY. 51 



" What time are you going ? " I again asked, suddenly thinking 

 that it wouldn't be a bad idea to go with him. 



" I'm goin' 'bout half-past three fro' my cottage yonder." 

 " Well, if you don't mind, I'll come along with you," I said. 



He turned round in astonishment. " What ! you're goin' to 

 be at our 'ouse at 'alf-past three, are yer? Well I'm blessed!" 



His amusement only made me all the keener to go, and I 

 there and then set out cheerfully for home to arrange all the 

 various little details so necessary to the success of an " out of 

 bed " expedition of this sort. A three-and-sixpenny alarum clock 

 was borrowed from the cook, and after a few deafening trials 

 just to see that the machinery was in order, its finger hands 

 were set to 3-15. Then it was propped up on an empty cigar 

 box, for someone suggested that the noise carried better when 

 the clock rested on a hollow stand. After I had seen a 

 huge block of coal placed on the kitchen fire to keep it alight 

 and a " skeleton " breakfast ready on the table, the gun and 

 cartridges all ready in the corner, the deer stalker hanging on 

 the knob of the scullery door, the pipe and the matches on 

 that plate ledge there, I departed to bed somewhat earlier than 

 usual. Myriads of ducks and widgeon, all with guns and fishing 

 rods, shooting and landing fine fourteen-stone men, and various 

 other nonsensical but rather terrifying sights float through my brain, 

 and then a cloud of golden eagles come within a foot of my 

 head and buzz at me, and buzz and more buzz, and still more 



