we have lost them for the afternoon." He paused and resumed: "I think the
first lot are dropping. No; they're coming on."

Picking up his gun, he watched the advancing grouse. They flew low but
very fast, making a few strokes at intervals and then sailing on
stretched wings down the wind. In a few moments they were large and
distinct, but there were not enough to cross more than the first two
butts. When they were fifty yards off Thorn threw up his gun and two pale
flashes leaped out. Osborn was slower and swung his barrel. The sharp
reports were echoed from the next butt and a thin streak of smoke that
looked gray in the sunshine drifted across the bank of turf. Two brown
objects, spinning round, struck the heath and a few light feathers
followed. The grouse that had escaped went on and got small again.

"Missed with my right," said Osborn. "Had to shoot on the swing. Don't
know about the other barrel."

Thorn did know, but used some tact. "I may have been a trifle slow; my
last bird was going very fast."

"I expect you saw whose bird it was," Osborn said to the lad who took
their guns.

"Yes, sir; Mr. Thorn's, sir."

"Oh, well," said Osborn, forcing a smile as he turned to Thorn, "you have
youth upon your side. Anyhow, I don't imagine the others have done much
better, and it looks as if we might as well go home. When the birds broke
back we lost the best chance we'll get. I wonder what spoiled the drive?"