WILD LIFE ON THE WING 
two eyes opened, one by a sapling and another 
under a fern stub, and two woodcock suddenly 
appeared among the dead leaves. He went 
down, and took his breakfast between them. 
Droleen was thin nowadays, and always hungry, 
but of never-failing cheeriness. He talked to 
himself all the time, and even hopped on and 
off Creaman's mottled back, while the latter 
blinked blissfully in a broad gleam of sunlight 
which filtered through the branches. 
They were thus occupied when the report of 
the Man's gun made the woods shudder. He 
came along the hedge, and the melancholy 
hedge-sparrow who shared Droleen's allotment, 
began to pipe cheerlessly. 
Creaman pulled himself together for his cus- 
tomary trick. " Gerr-r-r," scolded Droleen 
as the dog snuffled up. The other woodcock 
quivered and scuttled away through the 
brambles, and when the dog came to the place 
the trails forked. The white dog hated wood- 
cock only long habit made him hunt them at 
all. While he stood uncertain which line to 
follow, Creaman flounced up and instantly 
dropped palpitating, because the Man unex- 
pectedly stood right above him. This man 
was a hunter before he was a sportsman : he 
killed not merely for the love of killing, but 
for the pot. He saw where the woodcock had 
