On the signal of a whistle, from each of the party, Harry drove into the
brake with the spaniels, the setters being now consigned to the care of
Timothy; and in a moment, his loud "Hie cock! Hie cock! Pur-r-r--Hie
cock! good dogs!" was succeeded by the shrill yelping of the cockers,
the flap of the fast rising birds, and the continuous rattling of shots.
In twenty minutes the work was done; and it was well that it was done;
for, within a quarter of an hour afterwards, it was too dark to shoot at
all.
In that last twenty minutes twenty-two cock were actually brought to
bag, by the eight barrels; twenty-eight had been picked up, one by one,
as they came down the long swamp, and one Harry had killed in the
morning. When Timothy met them, with the horses, at the big oak tree,
half an hour afterward--for he had gone off across the fields, as hard
as he could foot it to the farm, as soon as he had received the setters
--it was quite dark; and the friends had counted their game out
regularly, and hung it up secundum artem in the loops of the new game
bag.
It was a huge day's sport--a day's sport to talk about for years
afterward--Tom Draw does talk about it now!
Fifty-one woodcock, forty-nine English snipe, twenty-seven quail, and a
brace of ruffed grouse.
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