"Sir, the practice much surpasses the precept, which is unusual. I
congratulate you upon a skill that almost partakes of the marvellous,
unless, indeed, chance----" And he stopped.

"It is natural that you should think so," I replied; "but if more
pigeons come, and Mr. Charles will make sure that he loads the rifle, I
hope to undeceive you."

At this moment, however, a loud shout from Scroope, who was looking for
me, reinforced by a shrill cry uttered by Miss Manners, banished every
pigeon within half a mile, a fact of which I was not sorry, since who
knows whether I should have it all, or any, of the next three birds?

"I think my friends are calling me, so I will bid you good morning," I
said awkwardly.

"One moment, sir," he exclaimed. "Might I first ask you your name? Mine
is Ragnall--Lord Ragnall."

"And mine is Allan Quatermain," I said.

"Oh!" he answered, "that explains matters. Charles, this is Mr.
Scroope's friend, the gentleman that you said--exaggerated. I think you
had better apologize."

But Charles was gone, to pick up the pigeons, I suppose.

At this moment Scroope and the young lady appeared, having heard our
voices, and a general explanation ensued.