“Well, father, we didn’t see them fall, and so we didn’t know where they were.”
At this all the gentlemen, and even the keepers, roared with laughter, and the boys reddened angrily.
“Well, then, boys,” said Teddy’s father, “we will stay here and rest for an hour, and you shall go with one of the keepers and all our dogs, and see if you have better luck this time in finding the partridges you shoot, but can’t see fall.”
“Oh, how jolly! Thanks, father. Come on, Dick; come on, Norman; now we shall have our bags as full as theirs.”
The gentlemen told the keeper to keep close to the boys, and not let them do anything rash. They started off with the dogs, and I followed some way behind, as usual. The partridges rose in numbers, as they did in the morning; the dogs were on the watch, but they brought in no game, because there was none to bring.
At last Norman grew impatient at having as yet shot nothing, and seeing one of the dogs stop and prick up her ears, he thought a partridge must be just going to rise, and that it would be much easier to shoot it while it was still on the ground than when it was flying. So he took aim and fired.
There was a yell of pain, the dog made a leap into the air, and then rolled over quite dead.
“You stupid fellow!” shouted the keeper, as he ran to the spot, “you’ve shot our very best dog! Here’s a pretty end of your fine sport!”
Norman stood speechless from fright. Dick and Teddy looked scared out of their wits. The keeper restrained his anger, and stood looking at the poor dog without saying another word.