"The other was the cock," 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?"
"Ay! ay! in the bog bottom!"
"How many?"
"Twenty-three!"
"Then we'll have sport, by Jove!" and, as he spoke, they entered a wide
rushy pasture, across which, at some two or three hundred yards, A---
and fat Tom were seen advancing toward them.
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