Then all at once there was a terrific whir of wings; Waveney quickly put
his gun to his shoulder--paused--took it down again; at the same
moment Lionel, finding a bird within his proper field, as he
considered--though it was going away at a prodigious speed--took steady
aim and fired. That distant object dropped--there was not a flutter. Of
course the keeper and Sir Hugh were still watching the young dog; but
when this doubtful scent came to nothing, Sir Hugh turned to Lionel.
"That was a long shot of yours, Mr. Moore," said he. "And very
excusable."
"Excusable?" said Lionel, wondering what he had done this time.
"Of course you knew that was a blackcock?" the other said.
"A blackcock?" he repeated.
"Didn't you hear Roderick call out? Didn't you see Waveney put up his
gun and then take it down?"
"Neither the one nor the other; I only saw a bird before me--and fired."
"Oh, well, there's no great harm done; if a man has no worse sin on his
conscience than shooting a blackcock on the Twelfth, he should sleep
sound o' nights. Waveney is fastidious. I dare say, if the bird had come
my way, I should not have resisted the temptation.
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