"So much for Ely!" exclaimed Harry--"had we both used two of them, we
should have bagged four then. As it is, I have killed one which we shall
not get; a thing that I most particularly hate."
"That bird will rise again," said Frank.
"Never!" replied the other, "he has one, if not two, shot in him, well
forward--if I am not much mistaken, before the wing--he is dead now! but
let us on. These we must follow, for they are on our line; you keep this
side the fence, and I will cross it with the dogs--come with me,
Timothy."
In a few minutes more there was a dead point at the hedge-row. "Look to,
Frank!" "Ay! ay! Poke them out, Tim;" then followed sundry bumps and
threshings of the briers, and out with a noisy flutter burst two birds
under Forester's nose. Bang! bang!
"The first shot too quick, altogether," muttered Archer; "Ay, he has
missed one; mark it, Tim--there he goes down in the corn, by jingo--
you've got that bird, Frank! That's well! Hold up, Shot"--another point
within five yards. "Look out again, Frank."
But this time vainly did Tim poke, and thrash, and peer into the bushes
--yet still Shot stood, stiff as a marble statue--then Chase drew up and
snuffed about, and pushed his head and forelegs into the matted briers,
and thereupon a muzzling noise ensued, and forthwith out he came,
mouthing a dead bird, warm still, and bleeding from the neck and breast.
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