Part 19 (2/2)

Within two minutes, they were all seated, Fat Tom in the post of honor by Harry's side upon the driving box, the Commodore and Frank, with Timothy, on the back seat, and off they rattled--ten miles an hour without the whip, up hill and down dale all alike, for they had but three miles to go, and that was gone in double quick time.

”What mun Ay do wi' t' horses, Sur?” asked Tim, touching his castor as he spoke.

”Take them home, to be sure,” replied Harry, ”and meet us with them under the oak tree, close to Mr. Wisner's house, at five o'clock this evening.”

”Nay! nay! Sur!” answered Tim, with a broad grin, eager to see the sport, and hating to be sent so unceremoniously home, ”that winna do, I'm thinking--who'll hug t' gam bag, and carry t' bottles, and make t'

loonchun ready; that winna do, Sur niver. If you ple-ease, Sur, Ay'll pit oop t' horses i' Measter Minthorne's barn here, and shak' doon a bite o' hay tull 'em, and so gang on wi' you, and carry t' bag whaile four o' t' clock, and then awa back and hitch oop, and draive doon to t'

aik tree!”

”I understand, Tim,” said his master, laughing; ”I understand right well! you want to see the sport.”

”Ayse oophaud it!” grinned Timothy, seeing at once that he should gain his point.

”Well! well! I don't care about it; will Minthorne let us put up the beasts in his barn, Tom?”

”Let us! let us!” exclaimed the fat man; ”by gad I'd like to see Joe Minthorne, or any other of his breed, a tellin' me I should'nt put my cattle where I pleased; jest let me ketch him at it!”

”Very well; have it your own way, Tim, take care of the beasts, and overtake us as quick as you can!” and as he spoke, he let down the bars which parted a fine wheat stubble from the road, and entered the field with the dogs at heel. ”We must part company to beat these little woods, must we not, Tom?”

”I guess so--I'll go on with A---; his Grouse and my Dash will work well enough, and you and Frank keep down the valley hereaways; we'll beat that little swamp-hole, and then the open woods to the brook side, and so along the meadows to the big bottom; you keep the hill-side coverts, and look the little pond-holes well on Minthorne's Ridge, you'll find a c.o.c.k or two there anyhow; and beat the bushes by the wall; I guess you'll have a bevy jumpin' up; and try, boys, do, to git 'em down the hill into the boggy bottom, for we can use them, I tell you!” and so they parted.

Archer and Forester, with Shot and Chase at heel, entered the little thicket indicated, and beat it carefully, but blank; although the dogs worked hard, and seemed as if about to make game more than once. They crossed the road, and came into another little wood, thicker and wetter than the first, with several springy pools, although it was almost upon the summit of the hill. Here Harry took the left or lower hand, bidding Frank keep near the outside at top, and full ten yards ahead of him.

”And mind, if you hear Tom shoot, or cry 'mark,' jump over into the open field, and be all eyes, for that's their line of country into the swamp, where we would have them. Hold up, good dogs, hold up!”

And off they went, cras.h.i.+ng and rattling through the dry matted briers, crossing each other evenly, and quartering the ground with rare accuracy. Scarcely, however, had they beat ten paces, before Shot flushed a c.o.c.k as he was in the very act of turning at the end of his beat, having run in on him down wind, without crossing the line of scent. Flip--flip--flap rose the bird, but as the dog had turned, and was now running from him, he perceived no cause for alarm, fluttered a yard or two onward, and alighted. The dog, who had neither scented nor seen the bird, caught the sound of his wing, and stood stiff on the instant, though his stern was waved doubtfully, and though he turned his sagacious knowing phiz over his shoulder, as if to look out for the pinion, the flap of which had arrested his quick ear. The bird had settled ere he turned, but Shot's eye fell upon his master, as with his finger on the trigger-guard, and thumb on the hammer, he was stepping softly up in a direct line, with eye intently fixed, toward the place where the woodc.o.c.k had dropped; he knew as well as though he had been blessed with human intellect, that game was in the wind, and remained still and steady. Flip--flap again up jumped the bird.

”Mark c.o.c.k,” cried Forester, from the other side of the wood, not having seen any thing, but hearing the sound of the timber doodle's wing somewhere or other; and at the self-same moment bang! boomed the full report of Harry's right hand barrel, the feathers drifting off down wind toward Frank, told him the work was done, and he asked no question; but ere the c.o.c.k had struck the ground, which he did within half a second, completely doubled up--whirr, whirr-r-r! the loud and startling hubbub of ruffed grouse taking wing at the report of Harry's gun, succeeded-- and instantly, before that worthy had got his eye about from marking the killed woodc.o.c.k, bang! bang! from Forester. Archer dropped b.u.t.t, and loaded as fast as it was possible, and bagged his dead bird quietly, but scarcely had he done so before Frank hailed him.

”Bring up the dogs, old fellow; I knocked down two, and I've bagged one, but I'm afraid the other's run!”

”Stand still, then--stand still, till I join you. He-here, he-here good dogs,” cried Harry, striding away through the brush like a good one.

In a moment he stood by Frank, who was just pocketing his first, a fine hen grouse.

”The other was the c.o.c.k,” said Frank, ”and a very large one, too; he was a long shot, but he's very hard hit; he flew against this tree before he fell, and bounded off it here; look at the feathers!”

”Ay! we'll have him in a moment; seek dead, Shot; seek, good dogs; ha!

now they wind him; there! Chase has him--no! he draws again--now Shot is standing; hold up, hold up, lads, he's running like the mischief, and won't stop till he reaches some thick covert.”

Bang! bang! ”Mark--ma-ark!” bang! bang! ”mark, Harry Archer, mark,” came down the wind in quick succession from the other party, who were beating some thick briers by the brook side, at three or four fields' distance.

”Quick, Forester, quick!” shouted Archer; ”over the wall, lad, and mark them! those are quail; I'm man enough to get this fellow by myself.

Steady, lads! steady-y-y!” as they were roading on at the top of their pace. ”Toho! toho-o-o, Chase; fie, for shame--don't you see, sir, Shot's got him dead there under his very nose in those cat-briers. Ha! dead!

good lads--good lads; dead! dead! fetch him, good dog; by George but he is a fine bird. I've got him, Forester; have you marked down the quail?”

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