and the wind's rising a gale. It will take you all your time to hit a
woodcock if the spinney holds one."

"You show us the woodcocks, Jeffries," answered Quatermain quickly, for
he never liked being crossed in anything to do with sport, "and we will
look after shooting them."

The man turned and went rather sulkily. I heard him say to the
under-keeper, "He's pretty good, the master is, I'm not saying he isn't,
but if he kills a woodcock in this light and wind, I'm a Dutchman."

I think that Quatermain heard him too, though he said nothing. The wind
was rising every minute, and by the time the beat begun it blew big
guns. I stood at the right-hand corner of the spinney, which curved
round somewhat, and Quatermain stood at the left, about forty paces from
me. Presently an old cock pheasant came rocketing over me, looking as
though the feathers were being blown out of his tail. I missed him clean
with the first barrel, and was never more pleased with myself in my life
than when I doubled him up with the second, for the shot was not an
easy one. In the faint light I could see Quatermain nodding his head in
approval, when through the groaning of the trees I heard the shouts of
the beaters, "Cock forward, cock to the right." Then came a whole volley
of shouts, "Woodcock to the right," "Cock to the left," "Cock over."

I looked up, and presently caught sight of one of the woodcocks coming
down the wind upon me like a flash. In that dim light I could not follow
all his movements as he zigzagged through the naked tree-tops; indeed I
could see him when his wings flitted up. Now he was passing me--_bang_,
and a flick of the wing, I had missed him; _bang_ again. Surely he was
down; no, there he went to my left.