92 AMERICAN GAME BIRD SHOOTING. 
three steps before an old cock rose out of the grass with 
a whirr that startled me, and rushed straight ahead; 
but he had not gone far before he came down with a 
loud thud, Lucy having bagged him. 
‘‘There is no doubt now that you will be shamefully 
beaten,” said the enthusiastic young lady, as she glee- 
fully clapped her hands for several seconds. 
Having placed the dead birds in the phaeton, I was 
about to enter, when four shots in rapid succession 
caused me to wheel about just in time to see three birds 
come tumbling down amid a shower of feathers, and 
another swoop over the crest of a hillock as if it were 
badly hit. 
“Oh, they are beating us!” exclaimed Miss Lucy in a 
tone of girlish disappointment, but the next moment 
she gave a scream of fear, for the double team, having 
become alarmed at the firing, and being under no con- 
trol, dashed for the hillside at their best pace. Throw- 
ing down our weapons, the Captain and myself started 
in hot pursuit, and overtook them in less than two min- 
utes, as one of the horses had been thrown by stepping 
into a prairie-dog hole. Before he could arise, owing to 
the kicking and splurging of the other, we had both of 
them by the reins, and the fallen one was soon on his 
legs. The only damage caused by this catastrophe was 
the breaking of the shaft, and giving the unlucky steed 
a good shaking, which made him tremble with excite- 
ment when he stood erect. The shaft was speedily 
mended with a stout piece of cord, and, everything 
being all right again, we resumed the sport which had 
been so inauspiciously interrupted. To prevent further 
accidents of that character, it was decided that one per- 
son should hold the team while the other shot, each to 
be driver in turn, and, to equalize the contest of the 
day, they wished Miss Lucy to agree that only one 
gun in each team should be engaged at a time, but 
