"I bet
you a pair of gloves that Colonel Quaritch will shoot more driven
partridges than you do."
"Done," said Edward Cossey sharply.
"Now, do you hear that, Colonel Quaritch?" went on Ida. "I have bet
Mr. Cossey a pair of gloves that you will kill more partridges this
afternoon than he will, so I hope you won't make me lose them."
"Goodness gracious," said the Colonel, in much alarm. "Why, the last
partridge-driving that I had was on the slopes of some mountains in
Afghanistan. I daresay that I shan't hit anything. Besides," he said
with some irritation, "I don't like being set up to shoot against
people."
"Oh, of course," said Edward loftily, "if Colonel Quaritch does not
like to take it up there's an end of it."
"Well," said the Colonel, "if you put it in that way I don't mind
trying, but I have only one gun and you have two."
"Oh, that will be all right," said Ida to the Colonel. "You shall have
George's gun; he never tries to shoot when they drive partridges,
because he cannot hit them. He goes with the beaters. It is a very
good gun."
The Colonel took up the gun and examined it. It was of about the same
bend and length as his own, but of a better quality, having once been
the property of James de la Molle.
"Yes," he said, "but then I haven't got a loader.
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