98 EACECOUESE AND COVEET SIDE. 



We are in time, however, to get a brace, for 

 the last bird in the covey falls to our friend's 

 barrel, and a single bird gets up afterwards and 

 offers a fair chance, though the reports frighten 

 the pigeons, which are over the spinney and out 

 of sight in a very few seconds. So over a fence 

 and into a covert carpeted with dead leaves, the 

 green rushes standing out in striking contrast to 

 the brown patches of dried fern ; and just as we 

 enter a rustle, followed by a flapping of wings, is 

 heard, and a pheasant flies up. Up, also, goea 

 the gun, instinctively ; but the bird is a hen, 

 and is allowed to escape unmolested. From the 

 leisurely way in which she flies it seems as if 

 she knew that she was safe, her pace differing 

 widely from the wild dash of the rocketer coming 

 down wind an incalculable number of miles an 

 hour. It is only men who draw upon their 

 imaginatioQ instead of their experience who 

 believe that all pheasants are about as tame as 

 barn-door fowls, and that when the birds are 

 thoroughly frightened by the invasion of an 

 army of beaters they are easy to kill. Those 

 who have tried to catch them as they whirl over 

 the top of a ride, across the narrow strip of 

 sky-line left on either hand by straight growing 

 trees, know better. The wood we have reached 

 must be still fairly well stocked, but it is not 



