CHAPTER XXXII.
Heron.—Hawking.—Great Bustard.—Stock-dove in Rabbit-hole.—"Dowe" Dogs.—Search for Bustards' Eggs.
The boys were to see a little more hawking. One of the gentlemen who shot their hawk was kind enough to give them an invitation to spend a few days at his house near Thetford, with the promise that he would show them some hawking carried on in the good old fashion, and with splendid hawks brought from Iceland. A neighbour of his cultivated hawking, and spared no expense in the noble pastime.
The boys debated some time whether they should accept this invitation or not. Frank was still sore about the loss of his hawks, and hardly cared to see others more successful than himself, but Dick said,—
"Don't be selfish, Frank. When you see the sport you will forget all about our loss; and besides, the invitation is meant kindly, and we ought not to refuse it out of pique."
Frank saw the wisdom of this, and so one fine November day they found themselves in company with their host, walking across the immense tract of common, or warren, which lies between Thetford and Brandon. They were on their way to "the meet." On a knoll where a single fir-tree raised its red stem in the wintry sunlight were assembled a number of ladies and gentlemen, some on horseback, and some on foot. Two men came up bearing square frames, on which were the hawks, large falcons, which had been brought at great expense from Holland and Iceland. They were hooded, and the hoods were gaily decorated with tassels and feathers.
"What are they going to fly the hawks at?" asked Dick. "They won't waste the energy of such magnificent birds as those on rabbits and plovers, and I see nothing else about."
"They expect some herons will pass over on their way from their feeding-grounds to the heronry," said Frank.
