A grouse rose and thundered away through the woods. Ben stopped and told Ed to put down the rifle and go ahead with the shotgun, for he believed other birds were hiding close by. He cautioned him to aim well in front if the birds flew crosswise, and several inches over the middle of their bodies if they went straight away.
Ed had barely taken five steps when another grouse rose, and flew directly from him. It was his first experience with these difficult targets, and he was rattled. Although he fired both barrels the bird went safely on its way.
“That’s all right,” laughed the guide; “put in two new shells quick.”
Ed slipped the shells into his gun and walked a few steps farther on, determined to make a better showing.
Whirr! A third grouse rose and chose the same course as the first.
“Now!” cried Ben, when the bird was in the proper alignment.
Bang! bang! went both shells, and Ed whooped triumphantly, for the grouse turned a somersault in the air and landed with a thud in the center of the trail lifeless.
“That’s better,” said Ben, encouragingly. “You’ll soon do as well with the gun as you do with the rifle.”
The boys ran forward eagerly and picked up the dead bird. They stroked its plumage admiringly, and Ed put it in the large rear pocket of his hunting-coat.
“Never mind, George, you’ll get a chance later on,” the guide promised.