Hence the same rigid form, stiff tail, and constrained
attitude, but in his face--for dogs have faces--there is none of that
tense energy, that evident anxiety; there is no frown upon his brow, no
glare in his mild open eye, no slaver on his lip!
"Come up, Tom; come up, Frank, they are all here; we must get in six
barrels; they will not move: come up, I say!"
And on we came, deliberately prompt, and ready. Now we were all in line:
Harry the centre man, I on the right, and Tom on the left hand. The
attitude of Archer was superb; his legs, set a little way apart, as firm
as if they had been rooted in the soil; his form drawn back a little,
and his head erect, with his eye fixed upon the dogs; his gun held in
both hands, across his person, the muzzle slightly elevated, his left
grasping the trigger guard; the thumb of the right resting upon the
hammer, and the fore-finger on the trigger of the left hand barrel; but,
as he had said, neither cocked. "Fall back, Tom, if you please, five
yards or so," he said, as coolly as if he were unconcerned, "and you
come forward, Frank, as many; I want to drive them to the left, into
those low red bushes; that will do: now then, I'll flush them; never
mind me, boys, I'll reserve my fire.
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