Flip--flap again up jumped the bird.
"Mark cock," 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 cock 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 woodcock, bang! bang! from Forester. Archer dropped butt, 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.
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