He turned to see what his companions had done, with their brisk
fusillade. But he could not make out. They were still watching the
setter, that was again being encouraged to go on, lest a stray bird or
two might still be in hiding. However, the quest was fruitless. The
whole of the small covey had risen simultaneously. So Roderick picked up
the dead birds and put them on a conspicuous stone, at the same time
signalling to the gillie with the pony, who was slowly coming up. Then
the shooting-party went forward again.
"How many birds rose then?" Lionel asked of his host.
"Five."
"And you got them all?" he said, judging by what he had seen the head
keeper pick up.
"Oh, yes, we got them all. They spread out like a fan. Waveney got one
brace and I another. I suppose," he added, with a smile, "you were too
intent on your own bird to notice?"
"Yes, I was," he said, honestly; but he was none the less elated, for he
knew that a good beginning would give him confidence.
And it did. They were soon at a part of the moor where the fun grew fast
and furious; and, keeping as close as he could to certainties, or what
looked like certainties, he was doing fairly well.
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