n it all to banter relieved her at once. "It
was pitiable," she nodded gravely to Marion; "his nerve left him when
they made such a din in the briers."

Miss Page glanced at her indifferently.

"What I need is practice like the chasseurs of Tarascon," admitted
Siward.

"I willingly offer my hat, monsieur," said Sylvia.

Marion Page, impatient to start, had turned her tailor-made back to the
company, and was instructing his crestfallen lordship very plainly:
"You fire too quickly, Blinky; two seconds is what you must count when a
grouse flushes. You must say 'Mark! Right!' or 'Mark! Left! Bang!'"

"I might as well say 'Bang!' for all I've done to-day," he muttered,
adjusting his shooting-goggles and snapping his eyes like fury. Then
exploding into raucous laughter he moved off southward with Marion Page,
who had exchanged a swift handshake with Siward; the twins followed,
convoying Eileen and Rena, neither maiden excitedly enthusiastic. And so
the luncheon party, lord and lady, twins and maidens, guides and dogs,
trailed away across the ridge, distant silhouettes presently against the
sky, then gone. And after a little while the far, dry, accentless report
of smokeless powder announced that the opening of the season had been
resumed and the Lesser Children were dying fast in the glory of a
perfect day.

"Are you ready, Mr. Siward?" She stood waiting for him at the edge of
the thicket; Miles resumed his game sack and her fowling-piece; the dog
came up, looking him anxiously in the eyes.

So he walked forward beside her into the dappled light of the thicket.

Within a few minutes the dog stood twice; and twice the whirring twitter
of woodcock startled her, echoed by the futile crack of his gun.

"Beg pardon, sir--"

"Yes, Miles," with a glint of humour.

"Overshot, sir,--excusin' the liberty, Mr. Siward. Both marked down
forty yard to the left if you wish to start 'em again."

"No," he said indifferently, "I had my chance at them. They're exempt."

Then Sagamore, tail wildly whipping, came smack on the trail of an
old stager of a cock-grouse--on, on over rock, log, wet gully, and dry
ridge, twisting, doubling, circling, every wile, every trick employed
and met, until the dog crawling noiselessly forward, trembled and froze,
and Siward, far to left, wheeled at the muffled and almost noiseless
rise. For an instant the slanting barrels wavered, grew motionless;
but only a stray sunbeam glinting struck a flash o