r another. Whenever a pheasant whirred up the man left off beating.

The lawyer knocked down four brace in no time, and those that escaped
him and turned back for the wood were brought down by Bassett, firing
from the hard road. Only those were spared that flew northward into
"Splatchett's." It was a veritable slaughter, planned with judgment,
and carried out in a most ungentlemanlike and unsportsmanlike manner.

It goaded Sir Charles beyond his patience. After several vain efforts
to restrain himself, he shouldered his gun, and, followed by his
friends, went bursting through the larches to Richard Bassett.

"Mr. Bassett," said he, "this is most ungentlernanly conduct."

"What is the matter, sir? Am I on your ground?"

"No, but you are taking a mean advantage of our being out. Who ever
heard of a gentleman beating his boundaries the very day a neighbor was
out shooting, and filling them with his game?"

"Oh, that is it, is it? When justice is against you you can talk of
law, and when law is against you you appeal to justice. Let us be in
one story or the other, please. The Huntercombe estates belong to me by
birth. You have got them by legal trickery. Keep them while you live.
_They will come to me one day, you know._ Meantime, leave me my little
estate of 'Splatchett's.' For shame, sir; you have robbed me of my
inheritance and my sweetheart; do you grudge me a few cock pheasants?
Why, you have made me so poor they are an object to me now."

"Oh!" said Sir Charles, "if you are stealing my game to keep body and
soul together, I pity you. In that case, perhaps you will let my
friends help you fill your larder."

Richard Bassett hesitated a moment; but Wheeler, who had drawn near at
the sound of the raised voices, made him a signal to assent.

"By all means," said he, adroitly. "Mr. Markham, your father often shot
with mine over the Bassett estates. You are welcome to poor little
'Splatchett's.' Keep your men off, Sir Charles; they are noisy
bunglers, and do more harm than good. Here, Tom! Bill! beat for the
gentlemen. They shall have the sport. I only want the birds."

Sir Charles drew back, and saw pheasant after pheasant thunder and whiz
into the air, then collapse at a report, and fall like lead, followed
by a shower of feathers.

His friends seemed to be deserting him for Richard Bassett. He left
them in charge of his keepers, and went slowly home.

He said nothing to Lady Bassett till night, and then she