Part 9 (1/2)
”No,” replied Lucien, ”it is only written in the future amongst the probabilities; but let us talk of something else. Did you not hear anything while I was talking with Orlandi?” he said, turning to me.
”Of what you were saying, do you mean?”
”No, but what you might have thought was a pheasant close by?”
”Well, I fancied I did hear a bird crow, but I thought I must have been mistaken!”
”No, you were not mistaken, there is a c.o.c.k perched in the great chestnut tree you saw about a hundred paces from here. I heard him just now as I was pa.s.sing.”
”Well, then,” said Lucien, ”we must eat him tomorrow.”
”He would have already been laid low,” said Orlandi, ”if I had not thought that in the village they would believe I was shooting at something besides a pheasant.”
”I have provided against that,” said Lucien. ”By-the-by,” he added, turning to me and throwing on his shoulder the gun he had already unslung, ”the shot by courtesy belongs to you.”
”One moment,” I said. ”I am not so sure of my aim as you, and I will be quite content to do my part in eating the bird. So do you fire.”
”I suppose you are not so used to shooting at night as we are,”
replied Lucien, ”and you would probably fire too low. But if you have nothing particular to do to-morrow you can come and take your revenge.”
CHAPTER IX.
WE left the ruins on the side opposite to that on which we had entered, Lucien going first.
As soon as we had got into the brushwood a pheasant once more loudly announced his presence.
He was about eighty paces from us, roosting in the branches of the chestnut tree, the approach to which was prevented on all sides by the undergrowth.
”I do not quite see how you are going to get him,” I said to Lucien; ”it does not appear a very easy shot.”
”No,” he replied; ”but if I could just see him, I would fire from here.”
”You do not mean to say that your gun will kill a pheasant at eighty yards?”
”Not with shot,” he replied; ”it will with a bullet.”
”Ah! that is a different thing altogether. I did not know you were loaded with ball. You were right to undertake the shot.”
”Would you like to see the pheasant?” asked Orlandi.
”Yes,” said Lucien, ”I confess that I should.”
”Wait a moment, then;” and Orlandi began to imitate the clucking of the hen pheasant.
Then, without our being able to see the bird, we perceived a movement in the leaves of the chestnut-tree. The pheasant was evidently mounting branch by branch as he replied to the call of the hen imitated by Orlandi.
At length he arrived at the end of a branch, and was quite visible in the moonlight.