In fact he was one of those shooters who never take a hard shot
if they can avoid it, being always in terror lest they should miss it
and so reduce their average.
Then George, who was a very fair shot of the "poking" order, fired
both barrels and got a bird, and Edward Cossey got another. It was not
till they were getting to the end of their last beat that Harold found
a chance of letting off his gun. Suddenly, however, a brace of old
birds sprang up out of the turnips in front of him at about thirty
yards as swiftly as though they had been ejected from a mortar, and
made off, one to the right and one to the left, both of them rising
shots. He got the right-hand bird, and then turning killed the other
also, when it was more than fifty yards away.
The Colonel felt satisfied, for the shots were very good. Mr. Cossey
opened his eyes and wondered if it was a fluke, and George ejaculated,
"Well, that's a master one."
After this they pursued their course, picking up another two brace of
birds on the way to the outlying cover, a wood of about twenty acres
through which they were to brush. It was a good holding wood for
pheasants, but lay on the outside of the Honham estate, where they
were liable to be poached by the farmers whose land marched, so George
enjoined them particularly not to let anything go.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245