MY FIRST SHOOT 31 
I ground impotent teeth at that ghastly sight! 
They did not send the dog for a badly-wounded 
hare from motive of mercy, but simply in the 
hope that they might yet secure it for their pot, 
after failing at an easy chance to bag it themselves, 
How I should have revelled in sending a charge 
of shot at the middle of each of those retreating 
apologies for sportsmen! Consoling myself with 
the old adage that what the eye does not see the 
heart does not grieve for, I walked away from 
sight of this blood-curdling business. 
The rest of the day I spent in perfecting my 
plans for the morrow, and while I was so doing met 
my friend the shepherd, a burly middle-aged man 
who loved a pint of beer and a fight about equally 
well, and next to these a rabbit ‘pudd’n.’ He had 
great news for me. Here it is in his own words: 
“Me an’ t’ ould dawg was a-blunderin’ along, 
as t’ sayin’ is, acrorst they barley stubbs yarnder, 
and thinkin’ about noth’n’ pertickler-like, when up 
gits the doocedest girt mess o’ birds as ever I set 
eyes on in all my barn days. I thought they was 
starluns when they riz up. Howsomedever, summat 
made me screw m’ eyes on ’em a liddle tighter, an’ 
I sez to meself an’ ter t’ ould dog, “Why, I'll be 
jiggered if they ain’t pairtridges.”’ I had been 
lucky with some ‘setty’ eggs cut out in the mowing 
of grass for hay, and had turned down the proceeds 
along the edge of a big piece of barley. I handed 
