172 WARWICK WOODLANDS. 



And oflF they went, crashing and rattling through the 

 dry matted briers, crossing each other evenly, and quarter- 

 ing the ground with rare accuracy. Scarcely, however, 

 had they beat ten paces, before Shot flushed a cock as 

 he was in the very act of turning at the end of his beat, 

 having run in on him down wind, without crossing the 

 line of scent. Flip — flip — flap rose the bird, but as the 

 dog had turned, and was now running from him, he 

 perceived no cause for alarm, fluttered a yard or two 

 onward, and alighted. The dog, who had neither scented 

 nor seen the bird, caught the sound of his wing, and stood 

 stiff on the instant, though his stern was waved doubt- 

 fully, and though he turned his sagacious knowing phiz 

 over his shoulder, as if to look out for the pinion, the flap 

 of which had arrested his quick ear. The bird had settled 

 ere he turned, but Shot's eye fell upon his master, as with 

 his finger on the trigger-guard, and thumb on the hammer, 

 he was stepping softly up in a direct line, with eye in- 

 tently fixed, toward the place where the woodcock had 

 dropped; he knew as well as though he had been blessed 

 with human intellect, that game was in the wind, and 

 remained still and steady. Flip — flap again up jumped 

 the bird. 



"Mark cock," cried Forester, from the other side of the 

 wood, not having seen any thing, but hearing the sound of 

 the timber doodle's wing somewhere or other; and at the 

 self-same moment bang ! boomed the full report of Harry's 

 right hand barrel, the feathers drifting off down wind 

 toward Frank, told him the work was done, and he asked 

 no question; but ere the cock had struck the ground, 

 which he did within half a second, completely doubled up 

 — whirr, whirr-r-r ! the loud and startling hubbub of ruffed 

 grouse taking wing at the report of Harry's gun, suc- 

 ceeded — and instantly, before that worthy had got his 

 eye about from marking the killed woodcock, bang! bang! 

 from Forester. Archer dropped butt, and loaded as fast 

 as it was possible, and bagged his dead bird quietly, but 

 scarcely had he done so before Frfink hailed him. 



"Bring up the dogs, old fellow; I knocked down two, 

 and I've bagged one, but I'm afraid the other's run !" 



"Stand still, then — stand still, till I join you. He-herfe, 



