28 WARWICK WOODLANDS. 



just as my barrel sent its charge into the splintered 

 branches. 



"Beautiful !" shouted Harry, who, looking through a 

 cross glade, saw the bird fall, which I could not. ''Beau- 

 tiful shot, Frank! Do all your work like that, and we'll 

 get twenty couple before night!" 



"Have I killed him !' answered I, half doubting if he 

 were not quizzing me. 



"Killed him? of course you have; doubled him up com- 

 pletely ! But look sharp ! there are more birds before me ! 

 I can hardly keep the dogs down, now ! There ! there goes 

 one — clean out of shot of me, though! Mark! mark, 

 Tom ! Gad, how the fat dog's running !" he continued. 

 "He sees him! Ten to one he gets him! There he goes 

 — bang! A long shot, and killed clean!" 



"Ready !" cried I. "I'm ready, Archer !" 



"Bag your bird, then. He lies under that dock leaf, at 

 the foot of yon red maple ! That's it ; you've got him. 

 Steady now, till Tom gets loaded !" 



"What did you do?" asked I. "You fired twice, I 

 think !" 



"Killed two !" he answered. "Ready, now '"' and on he 

 went, smashing away the boughs before him, while ever 

 and anon I heard his cheery' voice, calling or whistling to 

 his dogs, or rousing up the tenants of some thickets into 

 which even he could not force his way; and I, creeping, 

 as best I might, among the tangled brush, now plunging 

 half thigh deep in holes full of tenacious mire, now 

 blundering over the moss-covered stubs, pressed forward, 

 fancying every instant that the rustling of the briers 

 against my jacket was the flip-flap of a rising woodcock. 

 Suddenly, after bursting through a mass of thorns and 

 wild-vine, which was in truth almost impassable, I came 

 upon a little grassy spot quite clear of trees, and covered 

 with the tenderest verdure, through which a narrow rill 

 stole silently ; and as I set my first foot on it, up jumped, 

 with his beavitiful variegated back all reddened by the 

 sunbeams, a fine and full-fed woodcock, with the peculiar 

 twitter which he utters when surprised. He had not gone 

 ten yards, however, before my gun was at my shoulder 

 and the trigger drawn; before I heard the crack I saw 

 him cringe; and, as the white smoke drifted off to lee- 



