in a masterly way.

"You are rather good at this!" said Jack. "Won't I blazon it abroad
up at Beaufort. You shall have all the credit and more. I can't see
how you always manage to get them in the head."

"It's a trick," said Howard; "you have got to get a particular
swing, and when you have got it, it's difficult to miss--it's only
practice; and I shot a good deal at one time."

Howard was unreasonably happy that afternoon. It was a still, sunny
day, and the steep down stretched away above them, an ancient
English woodland, with all its thorn-thickets and elder-clumps. It
had been like this, he thought, from the beginning of history,
never touched by the hand of man. The expectant waiting, the quick
aim, the sudden shot, took off the restlessness of his brain; and
as they stood there, often waiting for a long time in silence, a
peculiar quality of peace and contentment enveloped his spirit. It
was all so old, so settled, so quiet, that all sense of retrospect
and prospect passed from his mind. He was just glad to be alive and
alert, glad of his friendly companion, robust and strong. A few
pictures passed before his mind, but he was glad just to let his
eyes wander over the scene, the steep turf ramparts, the close-set
dingles, the spring sunshine falling softly over all, as the sun
passed over and the shadows lengthened. At last a ferret got hung
up, and had to be dug out. Howard looked at his watch, and said
they must go back to tea. Jack protested in vain that there was
plenty of light left. Howard said they were expected back. They
left the keeper to recover the ferret, and went back quickly down
the valley. Jack was in supreme delight.