210 TOM draw's visit to pine brook. 



which had not risen high into the air, were forced to cross 

 faome thirty yards ahead of us, by a piece of tall woodland, 

 on the verge of which were several woodcutters, with two 

 or three large fires burning among the brushwood. "Now, 

 Tom," cried Harry, feeling his horses' mouths as he spoke, 

 but not attempting to pull up ; and instantly the old man's 

 heavy double rose steadily but quickly to his face — bang! 

 neatly aimed, a yard ahead of the first drake, which fell 

 quite dead into the ditch on the right hand of the cause- 

 way — bang! right across Harry's face, who leaned back to 

 make room for the fat fellow's shot, so perfectly did the 

 two rare and crafty sportsmen comprehend one another — 

 and before I heard the close report, the second wild-duck 

 slanted down wing-tipped before the wind, into the flags on 

 the left hand, having already crossed the road when the 

 shot struck him. The fifth and only now remaining bird, 

 which had been touched by Van Dyne's first discharge, 

 alighting in the marsh not far from his crippled comrade. 



"Beautiful! beautiful indeed!" cried I; "that was the 

 very prettiest thing — the quickest, smartest, and best cal- 

 culated shooting I ever yet have seen!" 



"We have done that same once or twice before though — 

 hey, Tom ?" replied Harry, pulling his horses well together, 

 and gathering them up by slow degrees — not coming to a 

 dead stop till we had passed Tom's first bird, some six 

 yards or better. "Now jump out, all of you; we have no 

 time to lose; no not a minute! for we must bag these fowl; 

 and those two chaps we saw on Mulford's meadows, are 

 racing now at their top speed behind that hill, to cut 

 into the big meadow just ahead of us, you may rely on 

 that. You, Timothy, drive on under that big pin oak — 

 take off the bridles — halter the horses to the tree, not to 

 the fence — and put their sheets and hoods on, for, early as 

 it is, the flies are troublesome already. Then mount the 

 game-bags and be ready — by the time you're on foot we 

 shall be with you. Forester, take the red dog to Van 

 Dyne, that second bird of his will balk him else, and I 

 sha'nt be surprised if he gets up again! Pick up that 

 mallard out of the ditch as you go by — he lies quite dead 

 at the foot of those tall reeds. Come, Tom, load up your 

 old cannon, and we'll take Shot, bag that wing-tipped 

 duck, and see if we can't nab the crippled bird, too ! come 

 along!" 



