lt to score
from. There was an awkward hummock in front of it, and driven birds
swinging into view round this were practically right over the butt
before its occupant could get his gun up.

It was a rather sleepy afternoon. Far away I could hear the sound of the
advancing beaters--the cries of the boys, the occasional barking of a
dog, and the shrill piping of the headkeeper's whistle. Suddenly three
birds swung into view round the face of the hill, and made straight for
the line of butts. They were just below me, nearer to Standish's butt
than mine, but I put up my gun and picked off the nearest. The other
two, instead of keeping on their course over Standish's head, suddenly
swerved round to the left, almost at right angles--I think they had seen
Miss Buncle's tam o' shanter and simultaneously decided that there are
worse things than death--and flew straight down the line, followed by an
ineffectual volley from the twelve and twenty-eight bores respectively.

"Now, Dermott, my boy!" I ejaculated, as the birds skimmed past the
third butt. "There's a chance for a really pretty right and left."

But no sound--no movement even--came from our crack's lair. The birds
flew by unharmed, only to fall later on, one to the Admiral, and one to
young Gilmerton.

"_Dormitat Homerus_," I murmured, gazing curiously towards Dermott's
butt. "I wonder if--Jove, there they go! What a pack! Well done, Gerald!
Oh, Gilmerton, you old _sweep_! Fire, man, _fire_! Good old Admiral!
Dermott, man, what the devil---- Have _at_ them!"

I fairly danced in the heather. A perfect cloud of birds was pouring
over the lower part of the line. The Admiral, the Gilmertons, and Gerald
were firing fast and furiously,--even the laird of Nethercraigs loosed
off at birds that were neither running nor sitting,--and when the
beaters appeared in sight five minutes later, and the drive came to an
end, the four lower butts totalled twelve brace among them.

I humbly proffered my solitary contribution.

"Twelve and a half," said the Admiral. "Now, Standish?"

"N.E. this time," remarked that youth philosophically.

The Admiral said nothing, but I saw his choleric blue eyes slide round
in the direction of Miss Buncle's headgear. He turned to Dermott.

"How many, old man?"

"Blob!"

That Dermott should return empty-handed from any kind of chase was so
surprising that we all turned round for the explanation. Dermott was
looking very dejected. This was evide