tters at a charge beside him.

"What do we score?" cried I, as we drew near; "what do we score?"

"I have four woodcocks, and a brace of quail," said Harry.

"And I, two cock and a brace," cried Tom, "and missed another cock; but
he's down in the meadow here, behind that 'ere stump alder!"

"And I, three woodcock and one quail!" I chimed in, naught abashed.

"And Ay'se marked doon three woodcock--two more beside yon big un, that
measter Draa made siccan a bungle of--and all t' quail--every feather on
um--doon t' bog meadow yonner--ooh! but we'se mak grand sport o't!"
interposed Tim, now busily employed stringing bird after bird up by the
head, with loops and buttons in the game-bag!

"Well done then, all!" said Harry. "Nine timber-doodles and five quail,
and only one shot missed! That's not bad shooting, considering what a
hole it is to shoot in. Gentlemen, here's your health," and filling
himself out a fair sized wine-glassfull of Ferintosh, into the silver
cup of his dram-bottle, he tossed it off; and then poured out a similar
libation for Tim Matlock. Tom and myself, nothing loth, obeyed the hint,
and sipped our modicums of distilled waters out of our private flasks.

"Now, then," cried Archer, "let us pick up these scattering birds. Tom
Draw, you can get yours without a dog! And now, Tim, where are yours?"

"T' first lies oop yonner in yon boonch of brachens, ahint t' big
scarlet maple; and t' other--"

"Well! I'll go to the first. You take Mr. Forester to the other, and
when we have bagged all three, we'll meet at the bog meadow fence, and
then hie at the bevy!"

This job was soon done, for Draw and Harry bagged their birds cleverly
at the first rise; and although mine got off at first without a shot, by
dodging round a birch tree straight in Tim's face, and flew back slap
toward the thicket, yet he pitched in its outer skirt, and as he jumped
up wild I cut him down with a broken pinion and a shot through his bill
at fifty yards, and Chase retrieved him well.

"Cleverly stopped, indeed!" Frank halloaed; "and by no means an easy
shot! and so our work's clean done for this place, at the least!"

"The boy can shoot some," observed Tom Draw, who loved to bother
Timothy; "the boy can shoot some, though he does come from Yorkshire!"

"Gad! and Ay wush Ay'd no but gotten thee i' Yorkshire, measter Draa!"
responded Tim.

"Why! what if you had got me there?"

"What? Whoy, Ay'd clap thee iv a cage, and hug th